par après avs yeux
by winteredspark
Summary: The second Justin and Alex give into the pull between them, they break the oldest curse ever written. When they wake up back in their child-hood they are given a chance to rewrite the past, or lose everything, including each-other. Multi-chap. Jalex.
1. prélude

**p**ar **a**près **a**vs **y**eux

_- a jalex story- _

**a/n**: This thought came to me after watching the Wizard's finale for the second time - thankfully I just watched the end, though that was bad enough. Anyways, I came up with this little idea and I wanted to present it to all of you. Hopefully it is unique enough and will capture your interest, but please, tell me if you think it's a train-wreck. I'd rather not write a whole story only to find out that no one liked it.

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><p><em>prologue - alex<em>

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><p>Une personne rencontre souvent sa destinée sur la route qu'il a prise l'éviter.<p>

_A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it._

_- Jean de La Fontaine_

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><p>Justin and I love far too freely - one of the few common traits we actually share - and I guess that's what put us in this mess in the first place, though I blame myself for the most part. Justin, in all of his weepy, indecisive glory, has actually had the guts to avoid me. He had the guts to not only block me from his life, but also treat me like I'm the scum under his shoe, like I mean <em>nothing<em>. I don't know why I couldn't do the same. Oh, I could pretend as good as my older brother could, but unlike him I couldn't block the memories or the feelings that had built up over the years.

So much for Alex Russo being the spitfire of the family.

I knew he was disappointed in me, though he never actually said it; that was the worst part. I could handle seeing Juliet drape herself all over him, I could put some force behind the kisses I shared with Mason. I could handle bantering when our parents got a little too suspicious, though it wasn't like we were actually going behind their back. You can't hide something that never really started, so Justin smugly told me.

But I've never been the type to mope over such things, so I live my life. Which is _totally_ why I'm out here on the porch just staring up at the blanket of stars and counting down to the New Year by myself. Totally.

"You're alone?" Justin's voice floats across the patio and I curse my bad hearing. "What devlish plan are you plotting now?"

I roll my eyes back to look at him, watching the shadows play across his face. Then, forcing the carefree smirk on my face, I banter like I'm supposed to. "Oh, you know, nothing much. Just a taser and your favorite Jim Bob Sherwood action figure," I say with a little laugh. I don't understand why we even do this to ourselves anymore, all the hidden innuendos and smiles that never reflect what's really inside us.

"Gah - a - ughhhh - Alex," Justin groans, imitating the old way he used to spaz around me flawlessly. "You never think about anyone but yourself."

Ouch. My smile hardens, and my voice comes out like honey as I say, "Damn, you caught me. I give up." I hold my hands up like I'm surrendering, though inside I'm beginning for him to stop this. It's almost a new year, a new beginning, and he's going to put me in a crappy mood.

"Do you ever give up?" Justin asks, the meaning double-layered. _Do you ever give up on us like you should, Alex? _

I shake my head, keeping eye contact, "You know me too well to believe that." For a second I think I see the old fear in those beautiful gray eyes, the look he wore frequently the weeks after the first family wizard competition. For a second, the real Justin is back.

"Where's Mason?" Justin questions, and this isn't how it's scripted.

Shrugging loosely, I slump down, kicking my legs over the brick wall so they hover in thin air. Fingers touch my chin and I stop breathing as I realize that my brother is actually touching me.

"It's a full moon," I say, pointing to the sky. My eyes say something totally different. _No matter how much I try to involve Mason in my life, it will never be enough. Because unlike you, Justin, I can't just turn my feelings off. _Speaking without words is a rather handy practice, I've found. Usually I can get away with saying a lot more than I could if my lips were moving. Justin always said he got lost in my eyes, that they were the most beautiful part of me; so, obviously, I tried to turn it against him.

Justin sits down on the brick wall, his feet planted firmly on the patio. He's never been a risk taker, no matter how hard he tries. It's just not in him.

"It's got to stop, Alex," he whispers softly, fingers playing a melody against my cheek.

"What has to stop?" I ask, tilting my head to the side and giving him an innocent look.

For once, I'm giving him the option to walk away, knowing that he'll take it and this will all be over. Because I'm not sure when things changed, when my brother became just Justin, just a boy; but it's horribly wrong, I know it, in the moments when he's my brother and memories of researching incest surface. I guess the rest of the time I content myself pretending that he's just a boy and I'm just a girl.

Firework explode in the sky, showering the earth with golden and crimson sparks, and Justin's lips press against my cheek. I turn my head just slightly - because some part of me knows that he wants this too, at least for tonight - and the corners of our lips touch. I feel a tremor run through my body and his hand clamps on my arm. Our fingers tangle. Something burns between us, bright, consuming. His eyes flutter and I'm looking into warm gray eyes lit with terror and uncertainty. Then his head tilts ever so slightly and our lips press together.

_God, I've missed you, _I don't say. The urgency in which his lips attack mine suggests a shift in thinking on Justin's part, a realization that we can't just banish these feelings anymore. When our lips part I'm not the only one who's trembling.

"I couldn't just leave you without your New Years kiss," Justin breathes against my lips, pulling back so he can look at me. "No matter how far I run, I realize that I'm never going anywhere at all."

I smile just barely, my thumb stroking his. "Promise me that we'll be happy," I plead, keeping my voice steady.

Justin's hand slips from mine so slowly I'm barely even aware of it. As he stands up, he says, "We're not normal people, Alex. How could I ever promise you something like that?"

I watch him go inside, then turn to gaze back out over the empty space in front of me. Touching my lips, I smile.

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><p>..::.:.:::être continué:::.:.::..<p>

_..:.:..::...to be continued..::..:.:::.:.._


	2. un

**p**ar **a**près **a**vs **y**eux

_- a jalex story- _

**a/n: **I was encouraged by the response to the prologue, so here is the first chapter of the story. I apologize if it moves slowly right now; I want to set the background so that the rest of the story makes sense. Hope you enjoy :D Keep on reviewing; they make me happy.

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><p><em>chapter one - justin <em>

[three years later]

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><p>Le prix de grandeur est la responsabilité.<p>

_The price of greatness is responsibility. _

_- Winston Churchill _

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><p>My fingers clench around the pencils, moving them into perfect alignment on the right end of the desk. Pulling a few out, I tap the tips to make sure the lead is still sharp - I refuse to use those mechanical pencils that promote laziness - then color coordinate them from cold to warm. Blue here, fuschia over here and finally it looks in order. Wrapping my hands around the stack of papers in front of my chair I slap them against the desk until they are aligned, then set them to the left.<p>

"Professor Russo?" My secretery peeks around the door and gives me a look so sharp I cringe, wondering who's really in charge here. "I have McCourt here waiting to speak to you about the recent restrictions you placed on him."

I clear my throat, wrap my hand around the edge of the desk, then ask, "Does he have an appointment?"

"Yes," she says with a brisk nod. "Can I send him in?"

I realign the pencils just to make sure I did it correctly the past five times. "Of course," I respond, trying to sound authoritative. "Thank you, Georgina."

She runs a hand through her short, spiky brown hair, "I've told you a million times to call me Gina. Would it kill you to listen?"

This is one of the reasons I keep Georgina around. Unlike all of the other Council members or bystanders, she isn't afraid to call me out on my obsessive need to keep things neat and orderly, or tell me that I need to stop distancing myself from the rest of the world. Even from the moment she walked in the door three months after I took Professor Crumbs' position, she wasn't afraid to open her mouth and tell me the truth. She said it wasn't her fault she was a quarter Centaur and thus had a short temper and blunt personality.

"The moment you stop calling me Professor Russo, then I'll compromise," I tell her with a triumphant smirk.

Gina laughs, adjusting her burgandy blouse. "The only reason I keep that up is to stop you from going insane, and you know it. We're past pretenses, _Justin_."

I flinch, then try to cover it up by fidgeting with my dark hair. A flush darkens by neck and cheeks and, angrily, I attempt to banish it.

"Bring him in," I mutter, glancing towards the row of pencils for the seventh time that morning.

"Bring him in, who?" Georgina pushes, crossing her arms.

I rise to my feet, smoothing out the wrinkles in my suit, then meet her expectant gaze. These little games she plays with me are often necessary, but it doesn't mean that I like them. It only serves to prove the point that I've gotten horribly paranoid and I cannot let anything of the sort slip out to the Wizard Tribune.

"Bring him in, Gina," I mutter so quietly I can barely even hear myself.

A satisfied smile stretches across Gina's face. "Thank you," she purrs, slipping back out the door and into the foyer.

Shoving my hands in my front pockets, I take a leisurely lap about the office, lingering over the photographs of the previous headmasters at Wiztech, noticing yet again how none of them are younger than eighty. A frown crosses over my face. What was Professor Crumbs thinking, giving me position in the spur of the moment? He hadn't thought it through; I recognize this more every time I run into a group of capable Council members attempting to give me advice involving important decisions.

Why did Professor Crumbs choose a child - in wizard years - to take his place? It is one of the questions I often toss and turn to at night. He couldn't have been thinking, because this job is harder than I ever could have anticipated. He'd made it seem so easy, shuffling about in his sparkly robes with a content expression as though he was on vacation. There is never a situation in which someone doesn't lose and every odd week I have angry members of the Wizard community banging on my door demanding an alteration in the newest set of laws.

Though I try to stop the uncertainty, it crowds in anyways, telling me that I'm not good or experienced enough for this job.

I need a vacation.

"Professor Russo?" A voice wobbles from the doorway and I turn to see one of my less-inspired students standing there. With his shaggy brown hair and perpetual smirk, the look in his eyes that suggests trouble, he reminds me all too much of those kids I studied with back before the wizard competition; they were always the students who went nowhere in life, though, so I had told myself to leave them in the midst of their antics and focus on my own studies to make sure I actually became somebody in this world.

"Sit down," I say, gesturing to the chair opposite mine. After a second, the boy sinks down into the chair and waits for me to sit in my plush recliner. "Fredward, right? Fredward McCourt?" My eyes fly over the paperwork to the left of my clenched hands, taking in the basic facts about the kid.

"Yeah," he mumbles. "I go by Freddie."

A little voice in my head laughs at the name, but I push away the childish thought.

"Look, I just wanted to ask you for a favor," the boy continues, brushing his hair out of his eyes. I wonder if he trips a lot.

"And that would be?" I respond, keeping my tone neutral. Inside I'm wondering what the heck he wants and how he could be so stupid as to ask a favor from the headmaster of his school. Don't people earn anything anymore?

Fredward knots his hands together, then blurts out, "I don't know how, but my wand privileges are this close to being taken away." He gestures a less than an inch between his thumb and pointer fingers, eyes widening. "I get that I'm not the best student, but I can't lose my magic, not when I'm so close to getting my full powers."

"Do you have any siblings?" I ask him, inwardly shaking my head. He looks so desperate, but it would be wrong for me to give him an easy way out.

"Nah," Fredward mutters, clenching his lips together as his eyes bore pleadingly into mine. "There's gotta be something I can do to keep my powers. Can't you, like, delay the process a little bit?"

_It's no wonder the boy is so full of himself_, I think, unable to keep a pitying chuckle from bubbling out. He doesn't have anyone to compete with. So, understandably, he thinks he has the full wizard powers in the bag.

"Look, Fredward -" I begin.

"Freddie," the boy interrupts, and I give him a warning look. He gulps and shuts up; I give myself a figurative pat on the back for authoritative behavior on my part.

"Look, _Freddie_," I start again, straightening my back to look more professional. "I have a class I can offer you that could get you back on track, but it's going to require some work on your part. At this point you have no other options."

The boy's shoulders slump a little further, "Isn't there anything else? Like an extension of sorts. I know you could pull some strings."

_You think so low of me? _

"Freddie, do you want to qualify for your full wizard powers?" I ask, keeping my voice steady, slow.

The boy's fingers tremble against the edge of the desk and this is when the guilt sinks in. I cannot stand to be the one to deliver news like this, though my siblings said I had a knack for it back in the day.

"I'll do whatever is necessary," Fredward says after a pause.

I smile at him, but inside I'm anything but calm. _You remind me a little too much of someone, Freddie._ Memories of curly black hair and a mocking smile surface for a second, but I brush them away. As professor, it is my job not to get too sentimental, to remain detached and serve the school the best I can.

I just hope I can meet Professor Crumbs' expectations.

* * *

><p>"There you are," Juliet says the moment I step through the door. Relief saturates her tone.<p>

"Sorry I'm late," I apologize, pulling her into a hug and kissing the top of her head. She squirms a bit, but I ignore it, needing to just hold her for a moment. "I had to assign a student to the 2.B Delinquent class right as I'd planned to leave."

"I'm just glad you're safe," Juliet responds, kissing me softly. I love her kisses, I think as she pulls back and smiles at me, but sometimes it's just not enough. She never asks about my work except when I tell her about important cases, though she'll tell me I'm doing fantastic as Headmaster. I love her, I really do, but I do wish she'd take a little more interest in my work.

"So, what's for dinner?" I ask, tangling our fingers together and allowing her to lead me towards the kitchen. The apartment we share isn't that big - even as Headmaster I don't make a fantastic salary, and Juliet usually only keeps odd jobs every few months - but there's something about it that's nice all the same. A fire is crackling in the fireplace and Juliet has set up several vanilla scented candles on the kitchen counter because she knows they calm me down. Some of the tension seeps from my body and I slump gratefully into one of the black barstools facing the counter.

"Well, I know you've been working really hard," Juliet replies, reaching into the oven, "so I went and asked your mom for her special chicken enchilada recipe. You deserve something special." She touches my hand and I'm reminded again why we've been together so long. No one else knows me like she does, and honestly, she's one of the most normal girls I've ever dated. The only time she goes a bit psycho is when she picks up Mason's scent at my parent's home, which isn't that often since we rarely visit Mom and Dad anymore.

Or, at least, she doesn't. I usually make trips later when she's gone to sleep so she won't think I'm abandoning her.

"Justin?" Her voice cuts through my thoughts like a knife.

"Hmm?" I wonder, meeting Juliet's worried gaze. "Sorry, I'm just tired. Been under a lot of stress lately."

"Hey," she murmers gently, cupping my face in her hands. Our lips brush. "You're so strong, do you know that?" she asks. "And I know that I haven't told you lately, but...I love you so much."

I smile at her, letting her know that her efforts mean a lot to me. "I love you too," I whisper.

Juliet pulls back then, and I get the niggling feeling that something is missing in our relationship that we used to have. But I associate with the stress of work and banish the thought. _I know I love her_, I think to myself as she hands me a green plate with two enchiladas, beans with cheese melted on the top and white rice - because she knows I can't stand any other kind. _I can't imagine life without her. _

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><p>It's a quarter to midnight that night when I untangle myself from Juliet's arms in our bed. She mumbles in her sleep, her face smoothing out as she twists and curls into a little ball, her fingers tugging on her pillow. Her golden curls spread behind her and she looks beautiful. I smile seriously down at her, remembering the many nights we wound around each other, becoming one, leaving imprints in the bed until we finally collapsed in exhaustion. I remember the times Juliet would actually want to go on dates with me to inconsequential places, when she had a streak of fire but knew that we brought out the best in each other.<p>

Something changed in the last year; somehow I lost that girl. She changed, and I feel guilty that it causes so little for me to doubt our relationship. I don't know how to get her back, but I know that I want to try, because I could never live with myself if she ever walked away.

Stepping through the portal in my second closet - Juliet never fails to laugh at the fact that I have more closet space than her - I make my way through the mist until I reach the door to the old lair that Alex now uses. Predictably, she never moved out, but at least she had the good judgment to get a job. I see her now, through the crack in the lair door Max caused by accidentally setting loose his pet griffin.

Alex is wearing her hair shorter again and it weaves about in loose curls, resting on her shoulders. She's mumbling to herself as she attempts to scrub at the gum stuck under the tables in the lair and I muffle a laugh. She hears me anyways.

"You try teaching this group of rabble-rousers," she mutters irritably.

"I did," I remind her with another little chuckle. Stepping through the portal, I grind my heels into the familiar floor of the Russo wizard lair. Not much has changed in two years, though Alex has painted the walls in a blur of purple, blur and gold. It's kind of gaudy, but it could be worse, and it does fit her.

Alex rolls her eyes at me, stooping to get another piece of gum stuck under one of the chairs in back. "So, you sent me another delinquent today. Poor kid has absolutely no idea what it means to earn something."

I laugh, replying, "That's what I thought, though I must admit, he reminded me of you."

She stands up abruptly, waving her wand in my face. "Family wizard. Ring a bell?"

I catch her wand in my hand and our fingers brush. I flinch but keep my hand where it is and Alex looks surprised.

"You look like you had a long day," Alex says, reading me in that annoyingly accurate manner. "Feeling inadequate again?"

I pry my fingers off her wand and she slides it into her left boot subconsciously, a habit she's performed many times over the years. When our eyes meet again, Alex looks sympathetic.

Shrugging, I say, "I don't understand why I have to keep all the portraits of the professors of the wall. When you're looking at pictures of people who are hundreds of years old, it makes you feel small in comparison."

"That's why I never visit your office," Alex replies with a tired smirk. "If you feel inadequate, imagine how _I_ would feel."

"I don't think I want to know," I answer, and we both laugh.

Alex's hand touches my cheek out of nowhere and I feel something burn in the pit of my stomach; I get the same reaction every time she touches me, something I haven't experienced with Juliet in a long time.

"Justin," Alex begins in that soft tone she rarely uses with anyone, let alone me. "I know you have this completely ridiculous fear that you'll never be good enough for anyone, which is not true, by the way. But I want you to remember how you studied all those years and proved to everyone that you were capable of being the family wizard. No matter what happens, you always fight back, in your paranoid, Jim Bob Sherwood obsessed way. Just remember that the next time you feel like giving up, because the Justin I remember never gave up."

"That Justin drove you crazy," I say with a little smile, remembering our constant fights and her "panties-in-a-twist" comments. I hate to admit it, but I kind of miss those days. At least I knew what to expect; it was comfortable, routine. And I guess that even with Alex's smart aleck comments I was happy.

"He drives me crazy now," Alex responds with a signature smirk, her fingers still planted against my cheek. "But I guess brothers and sisters have the natural instinct to outsmart each other. We're nothing special, even though you are the Headmaster of Wiztech and I'm secretly plotting to kick your feet out from under you."

"What?"

"Nothing," she says in a lilting voice that means she's up to something. Her laugh rings out again, and I can't help but smile at the joy on her face. Alex has always been so sure of herself, of who she is and I respect her for that. I suppose I respect her for her devlish plots too, because it proves she actually has a brain bigger than a walnut.

"Sure," I reply, dragging out the word. "You know, I thought you were a better liar than this."

Before she can do more than raise an eyebrow - she'd probably already been expecting it; she's always been two steps ahead of me - I lean down and kiss her gently. I can feel horrible guilt the moment our lips touch, guilt for committing an act so illegal, for defiling my sister even further, for sneaking behind my parents back, but I don't pull away. Alex is worth more than any of that.

The moment I pull away, Alex's eyes flutter open and she murmers, "I was waiting for you to do that."

"Was I that obvious?" I respond, touching her cheek once before moving a safe distance away.

She shrugs, "Aren't you always?"

I feel even more guilty once I see the hurt in her eyes, hurt because she knows that I'm not fully committed to this terrible thing between us. We both know that in a few minutes I'll slip back through the portal and curl up in bed with Juliet, pretending like I don't need anything but her.

"I'm sorry," I stutter. "I - I just - well -"

"It's okay," Alex says, forcing the nonchalant mask on her face. "You needed it." I know that's her way of telling me _I love you_. But with our parents sleeping just upstairs, we can't risk speaking the words we really need to say. So we'll keep playing this game until the end; that way, we can at least have a little piece of each other.

"Thank you," I tell her honestly, smiling and wishing that it wasn't so complicated, that we weren't so screwed up.

"Tell Juliet I said hi," Alex says sarcastically, knowing that I'll never do anything of the sort. My girlfriend would probably flip if she knew I was sneaking out to meet my sister in the middle of the night, then feel hurt that I thought I needed to sneak around.

I don't realize that the weight has lifted off my chest until I'm disappearing through the portal and I see Alex slump into the old arm-chair, tears pooling in her eyes the moment she thinks I'm gone. But it doesn't matter, because a different sort of weight latches onto me, one I can't fix nearly as easily.

_I love you too, _I think, and then I'm gone. The portal door shuts softly behind me.

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><p>..::.:.:::être continué:::.:.::..<p>

_..:.:..::...to be continued..::..:.:::.:.._


	3. deux

**p**ar **a**près **a**vs **y**eux

_- a jalex story- _

**a/n: **I'm happy that people are reviewing this story and am very glad that you all like it so far. I apologize for the delay in this chapter. I started school today and obviously this is a long chapter (5,433 words to be precise) it took me awhile to write and be pleased with. Reviews are much appreciated and hopefully I will update very soon. Please be patient, lol (:

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><p><em>chapter two - alex <em>

[eight years later]

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><p>Notre crainte la plus profonde n'est pas que nous sommes inadéquats. Notre crainte la plus profonde est que nous sommes puissants au-delà de la mesure. C'est notre Lumière, pas notre Obscurité, qui plus nous effraie.<p>

_Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. _

_It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us. - Marianne Williamson _

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><p>"You've reached the hopefully-but-not-likely permanent residence of Alex Russo. If it says this number has been disconnected, I most likely got evicted. Leave a message at the beep if you think I'd actually want to talk to you."<p>

_B_e_e_p_! _

"Hey Alex, it's Mason, your werewolf ex-boyfriend. Oh, uh, probably shouldn't have said that, but it's too late now, I guess. It's - um - well, it's been awhile, if you think three years is a long time. It's been five years since you became the family wizard. Man, time flies. I always knew you could do it, you know. That night I was trying a tactic called 'bruise your girlfriend's self confidence' and I guess it worked - haha. I know you said you wanted some space in our relationship because I, quote, 'made you want to dig a hole and become a hermit, and honestly, you already think you're a disgrace to society.' And, well - cough - I thought three years was maybe enough time for you to think things through. I planned to have raw steaks tonight for dinner and wondered if you wanted to join me. I swear I'll pay you at least three positive compliments throughout the course of the evening. Well - uh - I guess you're not home, since you're not picking up and I'm just kind of blabbering on, so I'll assume that you will get this and be over around 7ish. Cheers!"

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><p>"You should know who I am if you're calling me, but if you're one of those stupid delinquents I used to coach, then maybe you don't. Alex Russo here, for those brainiacs out there. Leave me a message and if you're lucky I'll get back to you. If not, don't cry about it. Kay, leave a messagey-thing-a-ma-jig at the beep."<p>

_B_e_e_p!

"Hey Russo, wanna smooch? Okay - haha - that was kind of lame. It's actually Mason, not that slimeball you used to date. What was his name? Duke? Dana? Who even cares, right? Bet you don't. Anyways, you never called me back that one time, but maybe you got a new number and all, so I'm not holding a grudge. Werewolves are very forgiving creatures, you know. But I'm getting off track - haha. I guess I just miss you. I mean, I do love you, and I know that I wasn't the best boyfriend, but you almost mean as much as those raw steaks. That's saying something - I think. Just - just call me back. It's been almost four years since we broke up and I still don't know why. Cheers."

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><p>"Hey, it's the kind-of-supposed-to-be-civil Alex Russo, but c'mon, I don't think that will ever fully happen. Anyways, leave a message at the beep, I guess. I'll try to be responsible and get back to you."<p>

_B_e_e_p!

"The steaks weren't better than you - cough, sniffle. I guess you've decided that we're done, but some part of me will always hang on. I meant it when I said that I loved you, Alex Russo, but I guess that's not enough. Eight years of silence is enough to get a point across. Love you."

_B_e_e_p!

"I forgot to tell you that I'm not wishing your happiness with other men. I have stature amongst my British brothers and none of them will ever speak to you, so you can get that fantasy of British accents out of your pretty head. That's it, I guess. Cheers."

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><p>The damn phone machine is beeping again.<p>

I ignore it as I shimmy the key from the lock and step into my dimly lit apartment. The grocery bags in my arms are loaded down with as much stuff as I could get without buying paper bags - I respect that people want to save the planet and all, but I'm already living paycheck to paycheck; I obviously can't afford a bunch of bags for my necessary-to-_live_ groceries - and my hands feel like lead weights. It's kind of like that one time I tried to exercise, and everyone knows how that turned out.

Although, coincidentally, I now own one of those exercise machines, thanks to my slow metabolism. If I don't want to be the next Miss Chubby, then I have to spend a whole hour on that machine every day. I could make that a half hour if I ate healthier, but cheeseburgers and Coca-Cola are essential to my survival.

The phone machine beeps again - sometimes I think about taking a baseball bat to the thing - and I dump the bags on the counter in the kitchen with a sigh of relief. Thankfully I only make trips to the grocery store once a month, and while it does make the bags that much heavier, it saves gas money and chance encounters with my past. Encounters like accidentally running into Dean while grabbing a box of tampons - equaling much awkwardness - or seeing Mason crossing the street with his newest little girlfriend and either slinking through the back roads to avoid him or exchanging meaningless inquiries.

Speaking of the devil -

I press the _play_ button on the machine, then turn to my grocery bags and start pulling out things.

"Hey Alex, I just thought I'd invite you to a little get together with me and my girlfriend Janelle. She's much more accepting of werewolves than you ever were-"

My hand slaps the _delete_ button with more force than necessary. God, Mason. Doesn't he ever give up? He's probably lying when he says that his current girlfriend knows and loves werewolves. She probably doesn't even know and he's too much of a coward to tell her because he doesn't want to drive her away.

I just don't understand why he won't let go of me. I mean, it's not like we ended things in a bloody fight to the death or anything. I had tried to fight for our relationship as long as I possibly could, but eventually it wasn't enough anymore. I couldn't lie in the same bed as him without remembering the old Mason who had drawn pictures of me on the streets, who had kissed me in the rain, and wondering when that Mason disappeared. I couldn't hold his hand without realizing that I wasn't getting the same little tingles across my skin as I used to feel. I couldn't look Mason in the eye without remembering all of the times that he'd put me down without thinking about it, all the times he'd looked at other girls and all the times he spaced out on me and made me feel like I wasn't important enough to pay attention to. I couldn't bring myself to kiss him like I used to, because I couldn't fake it anymore.

And yes, I probably shouldn't have kicked him out of my apartment and onto the street, ignored him for six years because I couldn't do the brave thing and tell him that I didn't love him anymore. But, honestly, when have I ever given speeches like that? I usually leave the inspiring monologues to Justin - or Max, if I need to loosen up and have a laugh. I'm not perfect; the thought is laughable.

After shoving the remainder of my groceries in the nooks and crannies of my fridge, I shut the door and turn to tug the power out of the phone machine. I'm building up quite a bill with the never-ending calls from Mason. The most ironic part of the situation is that with every message he leaves, he tells me how much he doesn't miss me and how much _happier_ he is now, yet he's making the calls in the first place. I'm single and you don't see me making that much of a fuss over it [that one time when I nearly broke down the down during one of my 'god I'm going to be alone forever' tirades excluded.]

My feet squeal against the hard-wood floors as I head down the hall to my bedroom. I really don't spend much time in the front of the apartment - unless I'm watching TV, and that's only like once a week; I usually crash on my parent's couch - not only because I can't afford to keep all the lights on at the same time, but because it's far too bare. As a tenant, I'm required to keep the walls white and people would surely notice if I used my magic to spruce up the place. My room is much cozier, with the light blue walls bleeding into beige with brown patterns - yeah, I used my magic for the temporary illusion of paint in the one room; sue me - and the queen sized bed which often feels too empty but wonderful all the same. I do most of my plotting and conniving in here and it's in the back of the house, so I don't have to hear the neighbors blasting Justin Bieber through the windows.

The familiar sound of Idioteque by Radiohead fills the silence of the room just as I plop onto the bed and I contemplate throwing my cell phone out the window before resigning myself to the fact that things probably aren't going to change. As much as I don't like being popular via technological devices or in general, it always seems to happen. Damn charismatic nature.

"What do you want?" I grumble as I answer.

"Hey Alex," Max practically shouts. I cover the ear not pressed against the phone and wince.

"Unless the world is about to spontaneously combust, you are not allowed to use that kind of tone. Inside voices, Maxie," I remind him, wondering how he manages to persuade the rest of the world that he's a successful, twenty-seven year old mortal when clearly he's still the same Max from my childhood.

He's the same Max who would accidentally levitate himself instead of a soda can, who would fall for his own booby trap. I'm not sure when he grew up and got the stubble on his chin; I don't remember when any of us grew up. I mean, Justin's middle-aged at thirty-one - the horror - and I'm just two years from the dreaded thirty. I have _rolls_. And no I'm not talking about the delicious pastries my Mom baked for us when we were younger. Those rolls were the ones that gave me these rolls, damn them.

"Sorry," Max apologizes, still sounded way too excited. "Mom wanted to know if you're still coming over for dinner."

I have to laugh. It's necessary. Mom always asks whether I'm coming over for dinner on Thursday night and my answer is always a sound yes. Others would wonder why she keeps asking, but I know she just craves the contact. She always hated the idea of having an "empty nest," though with the amount of time Max spends over there one can't really call the house empty, or silent.

"I'll be there around seven," I tell him, smiling.

"But," there are shuffling sounds from his end, "it's already ten past seven."

"Oh. Well, I'll get there when I get there." People still expect me to be on time; they never learn.

More static sounds follow, then Max says, "Awesome. Joce can't make it, but she told me to tell you hi. So, um, hi!"

Joce...Joce...oh yeah, Max's girlfriend, Jocelyn. I keep wanting to say fiance, because we're all expecting him to pop the question soon. It's an odd thought, Max, the youngest of the siblings, getting married first.

I laugh again, "Tell Jocelyn I say hi back."

There are mumbling sounds from his end and I assume he's passing along the message to Jocelyn.

"Well, hurry up Alex. Justin flew all the way from Washington and he wants some quality family time with all of us."

Justin's there? Something like an ache reverberates in my chest and I exhale.

"See you soon, Maxie." I hang up, staring into space.

* * *

><p>I nearly run into the neighbor's trash can as I pull out of my little driveway and turn into the cross-street that leads to the main road, but I'm not paying enough attention to care whether I left a dent in their recycling or not. My thoughts are focused on my left hand - the fourth finger, to be precise - and I wonder how Juliet's hand looks with the shiny engagement ring Justin bought her a few months ago. Yes, engaged. After much quivering and whining, my brother finally did the right thing and proposed to the girl of his dreams, the one he's in love with. I helped him pick out the ring and encouraged him to propose, because he was practically a quivering puddle of indecision.<p>

Not like I was trying to push him away from me. Hardly.

It's just, you know, well -

I sigh as I turn the car again, pressing down on the gas as I approach the ramp to the freeway.

For once in my life I had to do something sacrificial, _not_ selfish, and he so happened to be conviniently worrying about his future with Juliet. So I told him that he needed to either get rid of her and find someone else or get her the damn ring already. I was surprised Juliet hadn't already proposed herself, with how long my brother had taken to develop the courage. I'd been completely unselfish, even ignoring the look in his eyes when he turned to me, telling me everything I didn't want to know and yet had to.

_But I love you_, the look in his beautiful gray eyes had said.

I know that I used to have that look, but I'd banished it long ago. Because while I may do many stupid things, I'm smart enough never to indulge in the idea of being in love with my brother. I let myself fear - perhaps hate - the feelings, because that's all I can do. It's been years and I hope they go away before I'm on death's door [at like sixty or whatever] but it's not like there's many books on the subject. Even if there _is_ a shelf of books for those involved in incest, I'm not an idiot. People stare and they talk; they scorn you faster than you can open your mouth to explain.

How the hell does a twenty-eight year old woman with no job manage to talk her way out of _I'm in love with my brother_?

* * *

><p>I try the door of the apartment before entering without knocking - it's not like anyone important lives here - and am right away swept into familiar arms. Ugh, hugging. I've never gotten used to them and will probably never like them, but other people don't seem to understand that.<p>

"It's good to see you, mija," Mom whispers in my ear, kissing my cheek and tugging me closer like she hasn't seen me in months.

"Good to see you too," I mumble, pulling away as I feel the need to breathe. "How have you been?"

My mom is doing pretty well for her age. She hasn't put on too much weight and there are only a few gray hairs intersperced with dark brown - but that's probably because she has her hair dyed every few months to look younger - and she must have had her teeth whitened recently because they're nice and shiny. There's a little shimmer in her brown eyes, happiness at seeing the entire family together for once, I presume. I do miss being here around my parents occassionally, but not enough to move back. So long as I drop in for dinner once in awhile then I'm fine.

"A bit lonely," Mom says, batting her eyelashes at Jerry and wrapping an arm around his waist. "It's hard being empty-nesters."

"Well, Max is still around," I console her, patting her arm awkwardly. Then I reach in to give my dad a hug. He still smells like the sub-shop and a hint of cologne, proof he's shaved for us.

"Not for long," Mom says with a fake sniff. "Maxie's been saving up for a ring, isn't that right?" She looks across the room towards the bathroom and I turn in time to see Max heading towards us. After finally reaching that growth spurt he'd been chomping at the bit for, Max hit six foot no problem and I now have to look up to say hello.

"There he is," I announce to no one in particular, throwing my arms around my little brother. I can't bury my head into his shoulder like I used to when he was younger and shorter, but I can still give him hugs. My hand rubs absent-mindedly through his straight hair and I wonder when he got rid of the curls. I almost miss them. "Did Joce tell you that you had to cut the afro?" I ask Max half-jokingly.

Max chuckles, "Yeah. She said she was getting tired of her fingernails getting stuck in my hair and told me that our shampoo bill couldn't go up anymore, so I just had it cut off. Feels weird, though, like I've lost who I am." His eyes get wide and I ruffle his hair again as I laugh.

"I'm sure you'll re-discover yourself," I tell him. "So, when are you going to pop the big question?"

"To you?" Max asks, confused, and I choke on air.

"That's illegal, Max," a voice echoes from the stairwell and I turn to meet Justin's eyes with cool indifference on my face. My older brother takes a few steps forward until he's in the family room on the other side of the couch and I swivel back to look at Max, feeling my heart pound in my chest.

"God, I love you, Maxie," I say with a smile, pinching his cheek. "I meant, when are you going to propose to Jocelyn?"

"Oh." Max's eyebrows furrow inward and he says, "Well, I'm not sure anymore."

"Why?" I ask with a frown. Our parents creep up behind me and I see Justin moving towards us in the corner of my left eye.

"Well, um," Max begins, looking kind of uncomfortable; unusual for him. "She's kind of the full wizard in her family. Her older brother Freddie failed out of Wiztech and that left just her in the running."

A soft hand lands on my left shoulder and I turn to meet Justin's horrified gaze, knowing that we're thinking the same thing. Out of all the kids in Wiztech, what are the chances that one boy would land in Justin's office, lie and say that he had no siblings, then be transferred to my delinquent class where he soon failed due to lack of effort? _He must have wanted his sister to win_, is my next thought. _What a sacrifice. _

"But then - isn't there anyone who she can transfer her powers to?" Dad asks Max, crossing his arms as he always does when he gets stressed.

Max shrugs, looking very calm about the whole matter. "She might not want to give up being a wizard for me," he says. "It's all she has, really, you know?"

"But she has you," I reply angrily. "She's willing to just give you up if it will save her powers?" Justin's fingers squeeze my shoulder - his way of silently telling me to calm down - but I ignore him.

"Try to understand," Max responds, sounding more mature than I've ever heard him. "She lost her parents when she was young and Freddie homeschooled her. I was the first ex-wizard she met, someone she could trust with her secret, but there's a whole world out there. If she thinks she'll find someone better for her out there then who am I to stop her?"

"But - but what will that do to you?" I wonder, stepping closer to Max and feeling the ache in my chest as Justin's fingers fall from my shoulder. I know all too well how much it hurts to lose someone you love and I don't want my little brother going through that. There isn't a malicious bone in his body and he doesn't deserve to be dumped on the side of the road like this.

Max shrugs, lets Mom bustle forward and pull him into a hug. It's only when he looks at me that I see the sadness there, the feelings he's trying to hide from the rest of us. _Oh Maxie_, I think, frustrated. _If I could change it I would_.

Without a word, I turn and fling myself towards the stairs, leaving our parents to deal with Max. Suddenly my appetite is gone and I'm all too aware of the fact that Justin's feet are pounding against the stairs, heading towards me. I realize yet again that I haven't seen my older brother since he moved to New York with Juliet, and the yearning to spend time with him battles with the fear of actually speaking to him.

"Are you okay?" Justin asks as he approaches me and I instinctively reach for the door to my room.

"Just checking out the old place," I respond, crossing my arms and stepping into my room. "Not much has changed." The bed is still wrinkled and unmade - considering I refused to clean up before I left and Mom wouldn't dare come in here. No one visited me in here when I still lived here either, except Justin on occassion, and Dad when I was younger.

"Except dustier," Justin says, slapping a hand over his nose as his face scrunches up.

I smirk, ask, "Allergies?"

He rolls his eyes and then we just stare at each other for a minute, drinking in the sight of the person we were never allowed to miss so much. He looks somewhat good - but dorky, always dorky - in his dark jeans and long sleeved, pressed shirt with a gray tie, and while he's trimmed his hair over the years it doesn't look much different. There is some stubble on his jaw that I wish he would shave off, but I snap my mouth shut resolutely.

"So, how's the job?" Justin asks conversationally after a moment, following me to the other side of the room. My eyes roam around the shelves filled with old treasures and the nightstand with clothes shoved until the point that they're bursting to escape; anywhere but Justin's eyes, I tell myself.

"Fired myself last year," I say, "but you would know."

I see Justin shrug from my peripherals and he responds, "Well, yes, but you make it sound as though I'm stalking you."

"Maybe you are," I mutter with a little chuckle. "Go ahead. Ask already."

After a minute of hesitation, Justin asks, "Why did you fire yourself? I thought you enjoyed teaching the A-7 delinquents?"

"B-2," I correct him without thinking. "And I thought we shouldn't call them delinquents. They are after all, 'human beings in a bit of a rough patch.' Those are your words, by the way." Justin glares at me and I smile, knowing that he's not really mad. "I guess I just got tired of it after awhile. Admittedly, I thought I would enjoy teaching the students that are just like I was, but it just reminds me how much I failed and how much they've failed. It gets tiring and I don't know how to encourage them to do otherwise."

"So you fired yourself," Justin finishes for me, cocking an eyebrow questioningly.

I nod, uncrossing my arms and swinging them from side to side. "I'll find something else," I reply matter-of-factly. "I always do."

"You never knew what you wanted, Alex," Justin murmers, meeting my gaze and holding it for a second too long. "You still don't."

My head tilts to the side and I refuse to let my lips waver as our eyes meet again, brown on gray, and we begin to lose ourselves within each other. _I did, _I want to say, but the words won't ever come out. _We both knew what we wanted, and somehow we lost ourselves. _

"So, how are you making the payments on your apartment?" Justin asks, taking another swing at the chinks in my armor without realizing it.

I shrug, tell him, "I'm scraping by, will probably be evicted soon. But that's not a surprise. This is me we're talking about." I gesture to myself and try to laugh, but it sounds funny. "I'm surprised I lasted this long to begin with." I imagine him flying back to Washington to be with Juliet and something groans deep within me.

"And Mason?" Justin's voice sounds funny too, now. "Can't he provide for you?"

_I thought so. But I was wrong, and I never told you because I was too proud. _

"He's gone." I barely hear myself speak.

"Gone?"

"I broke up with him. Didn't love him anymore." The room spins.

I get a picture of a wedding train, of Juliet's perfect face beaming behind the veil, and suddenly I'm crying without my own permission. Justin's face softens immediately and he crosses the space separating us to pull me into his arms. He's mumbling beautiful nonsense in my ear and I blur the world away, focusing on his barely-there scent and the way his hands are gripping my back a little too tight. He probably thinks I'm crying about losing Mason, but I'm not. Or, at least, I don't think I am. It's all smushed together into one ball of horribly intense emotion I can't banish. _I love you. I love you. I love you. And I can't tell you, and I don't know what I'm going to do when you marry Juliet. _

"Alex -" Justin pulls away just far enough to look at me, and there is the burning in his beautiful eyes again, the terrified look that means something is about to happen between us.

"Please," I beg for the first time in my life. "Just once, before I lose you to her."

He looks horribly torn, but the moment my fingers brush his cheek something flames in the pit of his gray irises, something feral and lacking thought. His lips crash down on mine, more desperate than they've ever felt. I wrap my arms around his neck, feel him press into me. The heat is nearly unbearable and addictive at the same time and something curls in my stomach as our tongues dance.

Something in his eyes: a question. I nod just barely, kiss him again, then reach back and lock the door.

"I love you," I whisper as he lies me down gently on my old bed, his lips nipping at my neck, bringing something to life in the essence of my bones. "I love you so much. I love you." I probably sound pathetic, but I can't bring myself to care.

Justin is smiling radiantly as he leans down to kiss my cheek, nose, lips. His fingers curl around the hem of my tank-top and he breathes, "I love you."

I wrap my feet around his waist, head tipping back in ecstasy as his fingers slip down the grooves of my skin, lighting me on fire from the inside out. Hopefully I've learned to quiet down in bed, or we're going to have to answer some horribly awkward questions when our parents find us.

But right now, I don't care.

Justin is just a boy and I'm just a girl, with no cares in the world except each other.

* * *

><p>My toes curl and I sigh happily as I press myself closer to him. I'm aching from head to foot but I'm happier than I've ever been, lying here in Justin's arms, listening to him breathe as he sleeps. My lips brush his cheek and I snuggle closer, preparing to go back to sleep. In a few hours we'll have to hide our feelings away again, play the game we've been playing since before the wizard competition and I don't know how I'm going to cope. Probably I'll get fat from eating so many gallons of ice cream, but I don't want to think about that right now. I don't want to think about how disappointed and horror-struck my parents and Max would be if they found us here together. I don't want to think about the expression on Juliet's face if she found out that her fiance slept with his sister.<p>

I just want to forget the world for awhile and just allow myself to be happy for a few hours longer.

Suddenly, the fingers of my right hand brush a piece of paper on the bed. I open my eyes just wide enough to see the blue post it note with something scribbled on it and wonder when I left that there. Cupping the note in my hand I pull it closer until I can make out the words.

The world stops and I freeze with my mouth and eyes wide open. Disbelieving tears build in my eyes but I force them back, reading the note again with something along the lines of terror. This is a joke, right?

_Get dressed and go downstairs or Justin dies. _

* * *

><p>..::.:.:::être continué:::.:.::..<p>

_..:.:..::...to be continued..::..:.:::.:.._


	4. trois

**p**ar **a**près **a**vs **y**eux

_- a jalex story- _

**a/n: **Everyone still enjoying the story? I know the last chapter was a lot to wade through, my I needed to give some background. This is where the real idea for the story begins and hopefully no one will be too confused. I'm not sure if this idea has been used before, but if I've accidentally stolen it I apologize. Reviews are welcome and much appreciated (:

* * *

><p><em>chapter three - alex<em>

* * *

><p><em>Et la terreur lui-même est un exemple du caractère incontrôlable du monde.<em>

And the terror itself is an example of the world's uncontrollability. - Ulrich Beck

* * *

><p><em>This has to be a joke. <em>

My first thought involves a werewolf creeping up the side of the building and leaving the note to frighten us, but a quick glance at the window reveals that the lock is firmly in place. And we locked the door before we -

A flush colors my face and neck at the thought of the past few hours and I make a mental note not to bring it up again. Ignoring the guilt that soon follows - _slept with your own brother, allowed him to commit adultary, lied to your parents, Max, the world_ - I roll off the bed slowly enough not to wake Justin. Usually, he sleeps like a rock, but there have been times where he's an insomniac and I don't want to risk it. Something is going on and if anyone can figure it out, it's the queen of scheming. Justin would only get in the way.

The smell of vanilla, jasmine and Justin's scent swirl and bind together in the air and I don't know quite how to feel about. Juliet's scent for her fiance, my scent and Justin's scent mixed together = the scent of us, of adultary. I shiver at the thought. I shouldn't have done this becuase now it's going to hurt worse when I lose him.

If I don't lose him now.

My jeans are wrapped around one of the bedposts - Justin must have flung them there during the "I'm going to try and be sexy while wearing my Captain Jim Bob Sherwood boxers" phase a few hours back - and I pull them towards me, sliding them on over my legs. My bra comes next, the cute one with the hearts that I wore for no reason at all, not like I predicted this, and just as I throw on the blouse I was wearing my gaze lands on the note again. I grab it, try to flatten out the wrinkles.

_Get dressed and go downstairs or Justin dies. _

The smile I wasn't aware I had on like an idiot slowly drifts off my face when I re-read the note and wonder what it could mean. It's recent, was probably written in the past few days. While the post-it-note is slightly crumpled, there aren't any smudge marks it might obtain from being fisted in someone's hand or being exposed to the light for too long. The words would have faded away if it was old, but they sit there, shiny, black, _mocking_.

_Did Juliet figure out what was going on?_ I wonder. But she had known Justin was coming over here, so why would she bother following him and leaving this note after we -

I blush again, dismiss the thought. I probably have to rule out the blood-sucking blonde; while I don't like the fact that she is going to marry Justin, she is pretty nice and I can't begrudge her for loving my brother. She's perfectly allowed to. It just hurts that to know that he reciprocates those feelings. But if it wasn't her, then who could it have been?

The thought of all those phone messages occurs to me and my face darkens. If Mason is the person behind this, I am going to -

A whimper echoes from the bed and I turn to look at Justin - something I've been trying to avoid in case I lose him, or should I say, when I lose him. He has his hands clenched around the pillow I was using earlier, his face pinched and his nose crinkled. _Adorable_, I think, wondering why he looks so youthful this morning. Then he whimpers again and I see the most terrifying thing I ever have in my entire life.

A red line is tracing itself from the left side of his neck towards the right and his face screws up even more as blood begins to drip down his neck. Something is severing his head. I want to scream, to panic, to fling myself at him but I'm frozen. I remember the note.

_Get dressed and go downstairs or Justin dies. _

"Okay," I hiss desperately, wondering who or what I am talking to, "I'll go downstairs. Please don't hurt him."

The red line slows down increasingly as I back towards the door and finally it stops. The blood dries and I see the red line for a second before it shimmers away into nothingness. Justin's face relaxes and my heart aches as I realize that he's not even aware of what almost just happened. _Crap, magic is involved. _My hand curls around the door-knob and something else occurs to me.

_Magic means it could be anyone. _

Oh God.

* * *

><p>As I wander down the stairs, I wonder why Mom decided to put back up all the old paintings that Justin, Max and I (mainly them, not me) did when we were younger. My fingers trace over the edge of the painting Justin completed in fifth grade: a suggestive model of what life could be on the planets closer to the sun if we figured out how to deflect the sun's heat. There are buildings with tiny people standing in them - smiling, of course; what detail - and a river runs along the bottom, expressing the human need for clean water to survive. On the back, hidden by the wall, Justin had outlined the process towards the Mars renovation and human relocation in very precise steps labeled with subcatagories. He had been so excited about it, had wanted to go right to the Wizard Council and show them, but Mom stopped him and told him to give it a few years.<p>

Justin never went to the Council with his idea. He got preoccupied with more important things, I suppose. The thought brings a wave of nostalgia to my chest and I swallow, remembering that I'm not supposed to care so much.

When did I start caring? When did the little smiles between us start meaning so much? When did I start letting him teach me study habits not only because I started caring about school - a miracle indeed - but because I enjoyed his presence? When did I realize how clammy his hand felt wrapped around mine, not like Max's in the least? When did I know that he was so much more than my brother?

I suddenly break from my distracting thoughts and see that I'm still staring stupidly at the painting Justin did. The memory of a blood-soaked line drawing across Justin's neck brings me back to focus and I continue down the stairs. The living room and kitchen look totally turned around. The curtains are back to those old, red holey ones Dad had found at a garage sale and smuggled in when I was eleven and plates are stacked on the table as though we're all home and about to come down for breakfast before school. The mirror is back on the dark wall above the lamp I was constantly breaking as a teenager and I wonder when Mom got the time to remodel. _She probably wants to surprise us_, I think, taking large strides towards the kitchen. _Remind us of the old days and all._

I respect Mom for her dedication. I would never have the patience to stay up and do something like this. I'd probably just wave my wand and -

wait, where is my wand?

Reaching down towards my feet, I pat the gray boots down and sigh when I figure out that I must have left it upstairs. I would go get it, but the thought of Justin's head being severed is enough to keep me looping around the island in the kitchen and towards the fridge.

"Trying to smuggle breakfast to your room?"

I turn to meet my mom's annoyed expression and wonder why she's irritated. Is it that important for her to pretend that we're all a big happy family again?

"Sorry?" It comes out as a half question. "Is everyone still sleeping?" I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

Mom rolls her eyes, "I'd hope not. Don't want you guys being late to school...again." She opens the fridge and reaches for something in back, then fixes her eyes on me with something like frustration. "I got another call from Professor Laritate."

"Oh." I shrug, wondering why Professor Laritate would bother to call the school, unless he wants to coordinate a twelve year reunion for my old senior class. That must be it. I _knew_ he always liked me. "How is he doing? Still obsessed with Western culture and yipee-kai-eh-ing?"

"Of course," Mom says, looking confused now. "You act like you haven't seen him in years. Have you been playing hooky again?"

"Hooky?" I ask, getting really confused. As I reach back to ruffle my hair - an old habit - I frown and feel how my hair is suddenly down half my back. When did this happen? Was I in a coma or something?

Mom lays a roll of bagels on the counter and sets a jar of cream cheese beside it like she used to do when I was young. She'd always prepare breakfast for us, at least until I begged her to give me a shot and promised that I wouldn't burn the kitchen down.

"Professor Laritate said that you'd been passing notes about Mr. Summers during his speech on Liberal Humanism," Mom tells me, slicing open one of the bagels and giving me a look that means I'd better get start talking. Problem is, I have no idea what the hell she's referring to. I can barely even remember high school now, though I re-use some of the old pranks from time to time.

"That was senior year, Mom," I respond uncertainly, leaning on the counter and ignoring the way she winces when I wipe my fingers on the recently cleaned surface. "I mean, I know Mr. Summers brings me up every parent teacher conference as 'the student you do not want to be under any circumstances lest you get your head cut off by him personally' but why would he -"

"Alex, please," Mom cuts me off, spooning some cream cheese out and slathering it on half the bagel. Ew, cold. "I know you want to be grown up and all, but I've told you a thousand times. I don't think you're ready for the adult world. If this is your way of asking me to buy you a car, the answer is still no."

I think of my old silver Saturn Aura I'd saved up for all those years ago and wonder what on earth is going on. _The magic, Justin's throat, everything on the walls, Mom telling me that she's not going to get me my first car...what the hell is happening? Are we role-playing or something? _I remember quite vividly the day my parents bought me a used station wagon and told me that I had to pay for gas like the cheap parents they were. It was so long ago, but she's making it sound like it never happened in the first place.

"Can I use the restroom please?" I ask slowly, my head spinning a little.

Mom freeze in the middle of muttering to herself and looks at me really funny like. "When have you ever asked?" she wonders, waving me off. "Fine, we'll put off the inevitable conversation about losing privileges. Just no texting Dean and setting up your next expensive reunion. Consider your texting plan banned."

I stumble off to the bathroom.

Dean? Mr. Summers? First car? Mom taking things away from me?

My eyes connect with my reflection in the bathroom mirror and I cover my mouth in shock. _Oh God, what did we do? _

I am looking at the perfect replication of my seventeen year old self. There is a blue post-it note on the edge of the mirror with the same scrawled writing.

_Play along. Do not react unusually, or there will be severe consequences. _

* * *

><p>I find myself in Justin's room a minute later - after sneaking past Mom in the kitchen and up the stairs trying to be quiet - with my phone in one hand and a calendar in another. Finally, Justin's obsession with the world clock and time differences pays off, I think as I flip through the calendar filled with little green<em> x<em> marks. He'd always found red marks offensive as a kid and so chose to mark everything in green; the memory returns to me easily and I soon understand that time is slipping away from me.

I can vaguely remember what happened back when I was twenty-eight. Justin and I had been kissing, I'd locked the door, we'd had sex on the bed - don't blush, damn it - and after that all I remember is passing out. There had to have been some practical joke spell set so that we'd be teleported back before the wizard competition. But it's sure a freakin' intense one, what with the slitting of Justin's neck and all. The question is, who's behind it?

A friend? A practical joke from Dad to teach us responsibility, maybe? Or someone willing to hurt us?

The last one makes me shiver; then I groan as I see the mark on the calendar. May 1st, a few days before my senior graduation, and about a month before the wizard competition in which Justin and I got our full powers. My heart sinks when I realize that my full wizard powers have yet again been stolen from me. Something always gets in the way of me keeping them and it usually has to do with a selfish decision on my part, but not always. I feel kind of empty without them, remember for a second all the times I've used my powers since graduation and hope that I'll get them back. It's impossible to describe how much I love my powers and how lost I'd be without them.

My other hand busies itself clicking buttons on my phone - I became a boss driving and texting years ago; well, in the future now - and sifting through my messages. There are several flirty messages Dean and I exchanged, something from Mason, one from Mom reminding me to pick up her dress from the dry-cleaners and one from Justin several weeks ago. As I read the messages, I realize how juvenile I was and wish that I didn't have to have the mind of a twenty-eight year old.

With a little whine, I snap my phone shut and shove it in my pocket. The calendar finds its way mercilessly to the floor, lying there in a crumpled pile where I dropped it. There isn't anything out of the ordinary in my phone and all I know is that we're stuck in the past, which means I have to wake up the naked older brother in my bed and explain to him just what happened. That will be interesting, considering I don't even know what's going on myself.

The door to Justin's room clicks shut softly behind me - thanks to Justin's Helping Hand in his room who opens things, etc., and hates me - and I turn to my door across the hall with a hint of trepidation. Knowing my brother, he'll probably scream, cover himself up and tell me that I'm being irrational. He'll want to hit the books.

My door is still slightly ajar and I ease my way into the silence of my room, holding my back and rolling my eyes at myself when I realize that I'm just building the tension. Justin is still clutching my pillow as though it's a life-raft and there's a little smile on his face that I hate to disrupt. For just a second, I think I can see the hint of a bloody line on his neck but it disappears and I figure my mind is playing tricks on me. Nothing new, especially when Justin is concerned.

"Hey, dork," I murmer, my hand prodding his shoulder. "Dude, wake up."

Justin makes a little sleepy noise, smacks his lips and rolls over to the other side of the bed, still sleeping.

Huffing, I hurry to the other side of the bed and slap him across the face with just enough force to leave a mark. No matter what age we are, Justin and I still have to keep up pretenses. Besides, a little bruise will help Justin convince the jocks he's been wrestling in his free time. That, and reading _"How To Be a Jock For Dummies."_

As predicted, Justin shoots up half-way in my bed, his arms flailing and nearly hitting me. "Who - what - the hell," he sputters, looking absolutely stunned. What a suck-up.

"Now, now," I say, putting on my most mature voice. "Is that anyway to use the extensive vocabulary you've acquired through your nerd classes?" The look on his face is priceless, then it fades to be replaced by shock. He's seeing the seventeen year old me.

His mouth opens and he looks like he's going to scream, so I shove one of his textbooks in between his lips and watch him gag.

"Obviously we've got a problem," I tell him, holding up the two notes for him to see.

Justin's eyes bulge, his hands start shaking and I wait for him to explode. _One - two -_

He screeches in a very Justin-like manner.

* * *

><p>..::.:.:::être continué:::.:.::..<p>

_..:.:..::...to be continued..::..:.:::.:.._


	5. quatre

**p**ar **a**près **a**vs **y**eux

_- a jalex story- _

**a/n: **Thank you all so much for continuing to read and review. I have put and will continue to put a lot of work into this story - so much so that I am not writing anything else until I complete this. Dedication? Indeed. So keep reviewing. They put a smile on my face and make me feel like it's worth the hours writing this story, that I'm appreciated. I think we all understand that feeling. So, yeah. Review. But really, enjoy it, I mean. (:

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><p><em>chapter four - justin <em>

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><p>Nous portons le masque qui sourit de le et les mensonges,<p>

Il cache nos joues et ombrage nos yeux,—

Cette dette que nous payons à l'artifice humain;

avec les coeurs déchirés et ensanglantés que nous sourions,

et articuler silencieusement avec les subtilités de myriade.

.

_We wear the mask that grins and lies, _

_ It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,— _

_This debt we pay to human guile; _

_ with torn and bleeding hearts we smile, _

_ and mouth with myriad subtleties. - Paul Dunbar _

* * *

><p>I don't mean to scream.<p>

It happens accidentally and thankfully Alex used a silencing spell when we were young on the room to keep sounds from traveling past the door. For a second I think I surely must be dreaming. I'm lying in a strange bed that smells like the barest hint of jasmine - Alex's old bed - and Alex is looking down at me, but she has the body of a seventeen year old. Knowing Alex, she probably put some kind of spell on me that made me think I'd lost all of my achievments. There has to be a spell like that out there, surely.

Or maybe the insane, frightening politics of my job as Headmaster have finally driven me over the edge. My brain has resituated itself in a time where the stress of expectations isn't nearly so high, giving me a kind of mental vacation. I probably figured out a way for the IPP to temporarily shoot me back in time to re-evaluate my priorities. I wouldn't have had to change the structure of the device all the much to make it switch time and dimensions instead of locations.

Alex is tapping her foot agitatedly on the carpet. I can hear the unintentional rhythm she's making with her toes.

"Are you done trying to come up with ridiculous scenarios?" Alex asks me, crossing her arms now. The look in her eyes is not so much deer-in-the-headlights as it is helpless frustration and a hint of fear. I rarely ever see the look on my devious little sister anymore, save the occasions she knows that I'm going to get her back for a prank and can't predict what I'll do.

"They aren't ridiculous," I tell her, sitting up a little bit and frowning when I realize that I'm not wearing a shirt. One look under her blankets proves that I'm not wearing anything at all. "Uh, why am I nude?"

She freezes in the middle of chewing me out for acting too much like a nerd and I swear I see something like hurt flash across her face.

"You don't remember?" she asks softly, nearly pleading with me.

I take a minute to think back, trying to remember how I got to be naked in my sister's bed. There are fuzzy images darting through my consciousness - kissing someone, lying them down - and I flush as I wonder what the hell I've done with a girl in Alex's room of all places. But something doesn't seem right. The jasmine scent is lingering on me too and when I look up I see that Alex is wearing a nice, button up shirt that I must have had on before I went and deflowered myself to someone.

"Was I giving you a live presentation on sexual activity?" I ask Alex nervously, gulping and wondering why I sound so professional. I feel like I'm much older than I really am, but I can't seem to pin-point why. How frustrating.

She shrugs, leans against the wall. Her voice is stiff when she says, "You could say that."

I run a hand through my hair and try to remember when I decided to let it grow out. Yet I've always had it like this, but it's all kind of blurry. I feel like I don't belong here, but I'm here anyways. Magic has to be involved. Something is going on.

"I - I," I stutter, looking up at her. Alex flushes. "I think I need to take a walk," I tell her, reaching out a hand for my pants. "Maybe I'll stop by and see Juliet or something." She hands me my slacks and I shrug them on awkwardly under the covers, trying to keep myself covered for both my sake and my sister's innocence. Though with the look she's giving me - a mix of heated longing and hurt - I wonder if she's all that innocent.

"Cool," Alex says, shoving her hands in her pockets and stepping back towards the door. "Okay." She crumples something in her right hand - something blue - and opens the door, sliding halfway out. "Call my number if you - if you like trip or something, which I highly expect. We all know you have a low pain tolerance."

"I will," I say, wondering why I don't banter back. There is a sense of weirdness about it now, like we've learned at least a little to get along.

Alex disappears behind the door and I'm left to slide off the bed and ruffle my hair, wondering why I feel so strange, why I feel like I no longer belong here. This is my life, for God's sake. I'm growing up and preparing for the Wizard competition - which I have to win if I want to stay with Juliet; besides, everyone will be shocked if the smart one doesn't win - and I'm dating the girl that I love. I have Alex and Max to squabble with, to compete with and, on occasion, to rely on. This is my life.

Yet I refer to myself as Headmaster, feel the weight of an engagement on my left hand.

I feel like I'm a stranger.

* * *

><p>It is an odd feeling, walking down Waverly Place and feeling as though I'm stuck in a time warp. The memories are returning one by one and I can picture my office as Headmaster of Wiztech now, the desk scrubbed, polished and organized, the walls decorated with past headmasters. I remember hearing Max say that he was probably going to lose the girl he loved because she was a full wizard and he was a mortal. Running a hand through my hair to comb it back to perfection, I grunt in frustration and wish that I was back in regular time. I don't understand why we're stuck here, but I'm guessing that Alex did something again and I'll have to fix it. Again.<p>

Because that's just what we do.

There's the kid selling his annual newspapers and charging way too much for him. I remember watching him grow up and start shaving; he got interested in some girl named Penny - the irony never failed to amuse Alex - and decided it was in his best interest to wear suits. Right now he's eleven years old, but from where I should be he's twenty-two, just finished with college and showing Penny the world. She was the only girl who could ever tolerate him.

I see Penny now, hiding behind one of the displays across the street, secretly eyeing the kid. When she sees me looking, she blushes bright red and ducks down further. _Young love_, I think with a shake of my head.

"Are you done with the doll-house yet?" A familiar voice pipes up and I glance down, sighing when I see Olive. She's young again, hair pulled back and braided, a smile on her face, her body still pre-puberty.

"Not yet," I answer weakly, thinking forward three years, the day that Olive's parents decided that they wanted to leave Waverly Place for more job opportunities and a better school for their daughter.

Olive had begged Alex and I to smuggle her into one of our rooms for just a few weeks while she "sorted things out," but we'd refused. So, the night before the move, ten year old Olive had slid out of her window and wandered the streets away from home. About a half-mile away she'd hobbled, half-asleep, into the middle of the street and was hit by a truck driver too preoccupied changing the the radio to check for obstructions. A law-suit had commenced, but I had never been able to get Olive's face out of my mind, the way she'd pleaded with us; irrationally, I blame myself for her accident, though I know it was not my doing.

Looking at her bright brown eyes now, I wish that I could protect her. Perhaps I can, but it would disrupt something in the future.

Instead, I smile and walk away, the memories coming faster now, along with a sickening sense of guilt seemingly without an origin. Plodding ahead, I find myself at the entrance to Juliet's old home - the one she inhabited before she got old and hobbled off into the woods; her parents had always liked it here, despite their complaints, but they couldn't stay with the thought of their daughter's ashes scattered God knows where.

"What are you doing here?" I catch a glimpse of blonde hair and carefully concealed fangs before Juliet is in my arms, hugging me so tightly I can barely breathe. "I haven't seen you in days," she breathes against my neck, still clutching me as though she's scared I'll just walk away.

I think of the engagement band now in my wallet and smile at her, brushing a lock of her curly hair behind her right ear.

"Thinking through some things," I say, tangling our fingers together. She blushes a wonderful rosy color.

"What kind of things?" Juliet wonders, pulling me further up the street. I let her. "So long as you're not going to tell me about your proposition for Mars again. I think I've gotten that one memorized forwards and backwards."

My eyes widen a little and I reply with, "I thought you liked the idea."

Juliet looks a bit stunned, but she quickly covers it up with a laugh. "I meant to say _wonderful_ proposition. Must have left it out by accident. Budget cuts and all."

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I kiss her cool cheek and say, "Nice save. I was actually thinking about being grateful for the things I have now. Sounds stupid, I know, but I tend to take things for granted, things and people I care a lot about. So I was trying to self-reflect and realize that things don't last forever, so I should cherish them while I can."

"That doesn't sound stupid," Juliet says, leaning forward and kissing me softly.

_I miss this_, I think as our bodies press against each other and I'm filled with overwhelming love for the blonde. _I did love you, but I couldn't keep going behind your back and hurting you with - _

Suddenly, I remember: bodies tangling, a soft voice pleading "just once, before I lose you to her," drowning in how irresistably right something terribly wrong can feel. There is darkness, clothes raining down on the floor, gasps as two become one. Alex's smile dips into my neck as we move as one and I remember loving her, caring for her more intensely than I've ever cared for anyone in my entire life. I remember the blue post-it notes in her hand and the panic as she revealed to me her mind trapped in a seventeen year old body. _It's not just Alex's fault that we're stuck like this_, I think, pulling back and hoping that I don't look too guilty. _It's my fault too_.

The guilt is horrible, nearly crippling me this time. Why am I here with Juliet?

What the hell am I doing?

Alex's face...I'd crushed her earlier.

"Justin-wustin, are you okay?" Juliet asks, concerned, laying her hand on my arm and looking at me in such a loving manner that it makes me sick. I can't do this, not now, not ever. I can't hurt Juliet like this, not when she loves me so much.

"I'm fine," I mumble, smiling and kissing her nose. She giggles and I realize that I haven't heard that sound in years, if we're going by how old my mind is. The Juliet from my present has had the spirit nearly drained out of her. She's weary, slumping as she walks around the house and it's my fault. I've been living with a woman that needs my love and I can't give it to her.

"I have to go - go, um, do something," I continue, brushing my fingers along her jaw as I back up. Juliet's confused look flashes through my face as I whirl and prepare to bolt. That's when the scrap of blue catches my attention. I tug the post it-note from the cart across the walk and open it with trembling fingers, feeling my heart sink as I do.

_Entertain Juliet until this evening. Later, boast to Alex about what a great time you had. _

_F__ailure to comply will end in severe consequences on your beloved's part. _

_Alex is in danger and you are the only one who can save her. _

My eyes meet Juliet's when I turn around and I offer up a fake smile that I hope will please her.

"Tag," I shout. "You're it." Then I sprint down the street like I have the whole Wizard Council on my tail, knowing that the real danger is the panic pressing on my heart.

Someone is playing with us, and we have no choice but to comply.

* * *

><p>"There you are," Alex exclaims when I burst through the library doors leading to the <em>restricted<em> section. I was adamently against meeting her here - sent her a strongly worded voice message on her phone telling her what I thought of her living-on-an-edge behavior - but as usual, Alex doesn't care.

"Here I am," I mutter, slumping down into the seat opposite where she's pacing and reaching for the water bottle I asked her to bring. I've been letting Juliet chase me around Waverly Place for the past few hours and my muscles feel like jello.

Alex huffs and crosses her arms, "I texted you an hour and a half ago telling you to meet me here. What happened, Mr. Punctual?"

"Since when did you become me?" I ask, leaning back and taking another gulp of water. "I reserve the right to freak out about being places on time."

"Which is why you should have been here an hour ago," Alex snaps, slamming her hand down on one of the books she's stacked up on the table between us. Considering that my little sister never even knew our old school had a library, I'm slightly impressed she's here studying and cross-referencing. Though, she did teach that delinquent class, so I guess she had to pick up some of my habits.

"Look, I'm sorry," I begin, waving my hands up in surrender. "I was spending some quality time with my girlfriend. Excuse me for wanting to build a solid bond with the woman I love." _God, I'm sorry, Alex. I don't mean it. _

Alex flinches back and I feel like I'm choking on my words. Under any other circumstances I wouldn't hurt her like this, especially with a topic so fragile, but I have no choice. Whoever these people are leaving us the post-it-notes, they don't sound like they have an ounce of compassion within them and are therefore capable of anything.

"You still don't remember, do you?" Alex asks quetly, wrapping her arms about herself as though they can help shield from my words.

I shrug, "No, I remember everything. I was just having so much fun with Juliet and I lost track of time. We can get started now, though."

Alex leans against the book-shelf and I feel like the worst person in the world when I see her lower lip wobble, just barely. She's trying to hide it, but I can see the heart-breaking sadness in the back of her eyes, the regret there I wish I didn't have to plant. I can't stand the thought of her dying; she can hate me and live. I can take her hate, but if she died then I don't know what I'd do. _You probably regret loving me at all_, I think, hoping it's not true. We're stronger than that. We've grown up being different, as wizards, and can take a lot of hits before we break.

"I guess," she mumbles. "Are you done putting up your cool front? Because it's not working."

Shaking my head, I laugh and murmer, "I could never pretend around you, could I?"

"Nope," Alex says with a small smile. She holds up a blue-post it note and I realize that she's snatched it from my pocket without me being aware of it. But no, here is mine, right here. I hold it up and give her a questioning look.

She rolls her shoulders back and says, "Did you honestly think they'd scare me away that easily?"

"Not even if it endangers me?" I ask her with a hint of annoyance. Alex has always played the game in the hopes that she will win; she's not used to watching over anyone else and certainly doesn't have the best track record when it comes to selflessness.

"They'd only beat me to it," Alex jokes, patting my arm. "Siblings being mortal enemies and all that."

"Ah, I forgot," I respond, and our laughter fills the room. It takes a small amount of effort to ignore the speck of hurt - of unease - still in her beautiful eyes. "So, you found something?"

"Yeah, I figured I'd beat you to the books this time," Alex says, her voice carrying a mocking lilt to it, "you know, since we're switching personalities for the trip and everything."

"Well, show me," I say. "It can't be that bad, right?"

Alex's smile drops off her face, "Actually - um - it's pretty complicated. Took me awhile to find, considering it's one of the oldest rules ever created in the magic realm."

"I _knew_ magic was involved," I cut in.

Alex's voice is dry when she mumbles, "You're a genius. Look, we're dealing with an ancient rule here, which makes it incredibly difficult to find something to counter-act whatever spell was activated."

"What ancient rule is this?" I ask her, hoping it's not what I think it is, knowing that my gut feeling is probably right.

This time, when Alex's eyes meet mine, she looks devastated. "Incest is forbidden in the magic world as well as the mortal realm," she whispers at last, flipping the book in front of her to the very back. Dust flies up. "It says here that if two siblings fall in love with one another and promise the vows restricted to a man and woman of different blood-lines, the ancient curse is activated. Participants of this horrendous act will be given a second chance at life, a way to rewrite the past and save the world from their terrible mistake. If they are successful in this re-write, without disrupting the future more than the tiniest shift, they are invited to join their old lives and continue on with pure hearts. Should they refuse to do so, their powers will be stripped and their identities lost."

Words leave my grasp for a moment and I simply look at the book. Alex looks on the brink of tears, though I know she won't let them fall.

"So," I mutter, "when we - in your room -"

Alex nods. "I think the Council has preset the events to occur while we're stuck here. That's why we've been getting the post-it notes," she says slowly, as though she's trying to understand it herself. She's probably terrified, though she's not showing it.

"What does the Council want out of this?" I ask.

Alex's lower lip trembles again and my dreams for the future, for us, for real happiness, disappear.

"They want us to swear against each other," she says, voice quivering. "They want us to hate each other, or we'll lose our powers and who we are."

"Will we go back to the present as someone else?" I wonder, taking her hand and weaving our fingers together.

She shakes her head and chokes out, "I don't think we'll go back at all. We'll just disappear."

Our eyes meet like they have so many times, only this time, we're both thinking the same thing.

_What the hell are we going to do? _

* * *

><p>..::.:.:::être continué:::.:.::..<p>

_..:.:..::...to be continued..::..:.:::.:.._


	6. cinq

**p**ar **a**près **a**vs **y**eux

_- a jalex story- _

**a/n: **This chapter was difficult for me to write, not because I am not interested in this story, but because I had to piece the bridge from the realization of the curse to the action they will take perfectly, otherwise I won't get the emotion or reasons in right and you as the readers will find the eventual conclusion mediocre compared to how it could be. So, I apologize and hope you all enjoy this. Reviews are ever welcome (:

* * *

><p><em>chapter five - alex <em>

* * *

><p>Je sais bien que je fuis de mais que je ne suis pas dans la recherche de.<p>

_I know well what I am fleeing from but not what I am in search of. - Michel de Montaigne _

* * *

><p>Justin's fingers are clenching around mine, little pulses that make me fear for his sanity. Then I am filled with irritation.<p>

"Stop trying to have a heart attack," I snap, clutching his hand a little tighter to keep him from going off the deep end. His touch helps to calm the frantic edge to my nerves, a fear that I'll lose the little moments like these.

Justin gulps and looks down at me. "You would be too if -" he pauses, seeming to remember that I'm going through this too.

"And he remembers the predicament we're in," I respond sarcastically. "Bravo." My feet come to a halt then and I stare blankly up at the second story of the Waverly Sub-station, picturing the rugged condition of my sheets and wondering how many nights I'll be allowed to lie there before my memory deserts me.

I untangle my fingers from his and Justin hisses under his breath.

"Are you at all worried about losing this?" he asks, practically hyperventilating as he gestures between the two of us.

_How stupid my brother is at times_, I think, giving him a look that means "shut up, idiot." Here we are, stuck back in our childhood with the entire Council against our decision and he's brazen enough to talk about us as though we're exchanging pleasantries over tea-cups. _Of course I'm worried about losing you._ I touch his cheek, shivering as a gust of wind rips its way through the dimly lit streets. _I'm just not stupid enough to show it_.

Instead of baring my heart, I shrug my shoulders loosely and say, "Well, at least you've got a back-up plan in case anything happens." Gesturing to his back pocket where his engagement band rests, I feel a hint of anger burning in my gut and wish that I wasn't so emotionally tangled in things. While I love my brother, seeing him talk about Juliet like she's the brightest light of his existance, knowing that back where we're from he's slept with her too many times to counter, well, it hurts. Plus, it's not illegal for him to love her.

"Don't do this," Justin mutters, trying to touch me.

I skitter back, avoiding his gaze. "Do what?" I ask, flicking my eyes up and cocking back my shoulders.

I shouldn't play these games, shouldn't do this to him. _But he's willing to do it to you_, my thoughts whisper venemously. And besides, I've always been known for running, and, armed with the knowledge that saying the wrong thing is likely to kill Justin, I'll play games. I'll do whatever it takes, because I've always been the strongest link in our family, even if no one could believe it.

Justin sighs and touches my arm. I allow it.

"Let's just go inside," he mumbles, heading towards the door.

"Um," I begin with a guilty look, "you might want to prepare a speech of sorts, considering Mom was expecting us to be at school today. I'll get off the hook like I normally do; truancy is already a permanent black stain on my record. But you might be in for a little fun." Flipping my hair over my right shoulder, I follow him up the stairs and into the sub station.

"You think Mr. Laritate called her?" Justin wonders, looking back at me.

I gesture towards the counter where our mom is taking orders and say, "There's your answer." In that moment, Mom spots us and her eyes darken furiously. _We're in for a hell of a rant later_, I think to myself as I reach for one of the sugar tubs on the closest table. The sweetness tastes wonderful and I smack my lips, content for the time being.

"Do you have any idea how bad that is for you?" Justin grumbles, snatching the clear tub from between my hands.

Flashing him a glare, I stand up and grab it back, responding with, "Does it look like I care? You can work out for the both of us."

He rolls his eyes. "I don't think it works like that, Alex."

At that moment, Dad joins Mom against the edge of the counter and they both commence shooting us murderous glares.

"Oh man," Justin starts to fret like the dork he is. "This is going to tank my chances of honor roll."

"Relax dude. I think your GPA is safe." I pat his arm reassuringly and begin my way towards our parents. "If anything, Mr. Laritate finally decided to expel me. Wouldn't be the first time."

"Wait, you've been expelled before?" Justin asks, his voice raising two notches.

My shoulders rise up and down several times before I reply, "Yeah, but he can't bear to have the halls silent for long. I spice up the school and probably save him from abysmal depression."

"_Alexandra Margarita Russo_," Mom hisses.

"Man, I'm in for it this time," I mumble half-heartedly, waving my hands as I continue towards our parents. "She used my full name."

"I hope she doesn't call my -" Justin begins.

"_Justin Vincenzo Pepe Russo!_"

Justin groans and I watch several customers turn from their questionably meatless subs to find the source of the booming voice. Figuring it best to hustle a bit, I tug my brother along behind me by the wrist and we soon reach our parents.

"You called?" I ask them with an innocent smile I've perfected, hoping that we won't be stuck here too long. Justin has books to cross-reference and I have sleep to catch up on after I pretend to study. Justin whimpers behind me, the studious wuss.

Mom thrusts us both into the back of the shop by the door to the wizard lair and fixes us with a dangerous look, asking slowly, "Would either of you care to explain why you didn't show up for school?"

"You know teenagers," I start.

The look on my mother's face stops me cold. God, the woman can be really intimidating sometimes.

"Alex, I'd like to say I'm surprised by your behavior," Mom continues in her deadliest voice, "but I'd be kidding myself. Professor Laritate -"

"Mom," I interrupt, sinking back against the wall, "his name is Mr. Laritate. No need to suck up unless you're at a parent-teacher conference."

"Would you stop talking?" Mom snaps and all three of us cower back. "I would have thought you'd be with Mason, but he's been calling all afternoon. Apparently you cancelled your date with him and he's worried _sick_."

I groan, covering my face with my left hand. Great, now I get to deal with a whimpering boyfriend on top of the rest of the potentially life-threatening mess Justin and I are in. Fantastic.

"Finally, an appropriate reaction," Mom replies, shaking her head. "Do you want to fail out of high school, Alex? Is that really want you want?"

I find it prudent not to answer, save sagging my neck in a repentant manner.

"And Justin." Mom's voice sounds actually disappointed now, like she's heart-broken her favorite child would be truant one day in his entire life. "I thought you cared about your grades. You told me that you wanted to be on the honor roll, but if you keep this up -"

"I'm sorry, Mom," Justin whimpers, and I hear the catch in his voice that means he's about to confess the truth. Time for me to fabricate something good.

"There was a Wizard Fair on Neptune," I say, smiling believably. "I really wanted to go and Justin told me that I couldn't just abandon my responsibilities. But, I mean, c'mon. Wizard Fair, people." No one grins back at me and I sigh.

"I wasn't aware of any Wizard Fair," Dad says, finally speaking up. By the way that he's huddled into the wall, I suspect he wishes he was anywhere but here right now. He's never liked confrontations.

"Well, there was," I insist, stretching out a hand vehemently. "But I mean, obviously, I found a way to get stranded and I had to call Justin to help me. The only reason he missed school was to help his little sister like the amazing wizard he is." The look in Justin's eyes is worth the awkwardness it took to say those words. I'll never be good at complimenting people, but for him I'll try.

"Oh." Mom's face lightens a little bit and I sigh in relief. She believes me. "Justin, is this true?"

"Um, uh, yeah," Justin stutters, exhaling as Mom throws herself into his arms.

_The little hero_, I think to myself, heading into the wizard lair. Dad's eyes watch me go, but he doesn't say anything and it makes me love him all the more. I miss the father from my future, the one who finally accepted me for who I am and tries to spend father-daughter time with me, not this man who is caught between expectations, love and fear of what will become of us once the wizard competition hits. I miss the mom who invites me over for dinner every Thursday evening, yet understands that I need my space.

Max is sitting in one of the chairs in the wizard lair when I enter and I watch him try to change a brick back into a dove with a little smile on my face.

"Hey, Alex," Max speaks up a second later, face lighting up as I peel off the wall and step further into the lair.

"And here I thought I was here to escape from you," I joke, pulling him into a hug and running my hand through his curly hair.

"But," Max starts, frowning as he looks at me, "you haven't seen me in awhile. Is my new cologne smell too irresistable for you?" He sniffs his armpits and I roll my eyes.

"You just keep working on that, Maxie," I tell him, my smile widening with his. I realize only now how much more serious he has gotten through the years and am relieved to see the sadness absent from these brown eyes. It will be there soon enough and I want to prevent it so badly.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Max asks, tilting his head to the side.

_Because I love seeing you happy_, I think. Just thinking such mushy words has me cringing.

"Just distracting you," I say instead, pulling the ten-dollar bill out of his back pocket and waving it in front of him victoriously. "If Mom or Dad asks, tell them that I went to apologize to Mason and make our date up to them."

"Are you really going on a date with Mason?" Max asks suspiciously.

"Smart one," I give him, heading towards the portal. "Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. I tend to get lost really easily."

I'm through the blinding white portal before Max can begin to make sense of the statement.

* * *

><p>There aren't many people on the streets in the Magic Realm for whatever reason. The sun is just beginning to dip behind the mountains here - the time is a little behind that of the mortal realm, often confusing people who travel back and forth frequently - and it casts a ghoulish, orange edged shadow across the city. Normally I don't visit the Capital of Magic, for two reasons: 1) The name of the capital is <em>Demeurer, <em>or, Remain; which basically means that the Council is caught up in past rules and policies and refuses to consider new possibilities, plus they're ancient, and 2) People here are way too smart and instinctively don't like me.

The inhabitants of Demeurer all seem to be watching some magical broadcast or something - why else would they be inside, unless they're couch potatoes too - and I find it a relief not to have to worry about running into anyone. I find myself glancing over the design of the houses lining the wide street. Magic has wonderful capabilities and the citizens here are allowed to decorate their homes according to their personal preferences. One home looks like a Greek temple and another resembles a barn. A third looks like the modern mortal home. But appearances are decieving and I would bet that the interior of these homes all look the same.

The house I am looking for is three rows in on the right and the last house down, folded somewhat into the side of a rolling green hill. The lawn is trimmed to perfection and there are several statues decorating the front, but nothing huge. The outside is painted a pale cream color and I feel like I've entered Anne of Green Gables.

I knock on the door, some part of me wondering if I have the wrong address. But I know I don't. This house looks too close to what I pictured.

"Alex Russo?" Professor Crumbs peers around the edge of the doorway and I resist the urge to snort as I take in his fuzzy maroon robe and palm-tree patterned slippers. He _would_ be wearing something like this.

"I'm sorry for barging in," actually I'm not, "but I needed to ask you something." I gaze up at him expectantly, watching him stroke his beard as he thinks.

At last Crumbs nods and beckons me inside. "Would you care for a cup of Dragonberry tea?" he asks.

"Will it kill me?" I respond, arching an eyebrow. You never know what these magical drinks contain.

Professor Crumbs chuckles in that way old people do when speaking to younger generations and says, "I do not believe so. Take a seat, Miss Russo." He gestures to the cream couch in front of us and the moment I sit down he disappears into the kitchen.

The living room looks the same as the outside of the house: well-kept, not a speck of dust on the white carpet. I can see a Helping Hand burrowing into it's nest in the wall, probably returning from cleaning up one mess or another. The glass table in front of me is so shiny I can make out my reflection perfectly. _Ew, when did I get a pimple in between my eyes? Ignore the pimple, just ignore it. _Reaching into the satchel I stole from the wizard lair - it was probably just one of Justin's many school bags - I pull out the spell book I found the ancient curse in and run my finger over the print slowly. "_Should they refuse to do so, their powers will be stripped and their identities lost." _

"You are reading a book?" Professor Crumbs asks as he re-enters the room and sets a tea-cup filled with a purplish brown substance in front of me. He looks so shocked that I want to burst out laughing.

"I do believe so," I tell him, turning his own words back at him. "So, about that favor -"

"Take a sip of your tea," Professor Crumbs interrupts. "Should I call my personal massage assistant? Your shoulders look tense." His eyes probe me and I recoil uneasily, never having liked the way he'd see right through my defenses. He does it with all of his students.

I take a sip of tea and let the expression bleed from my face, leaving me peaceful for just a second. The taste of berries and something sharp settles on my tongue, something not quite wonderful but not horrible either. I wonder what ingredients are really in this tea and decide that I don't really want to know. Suddenly, Professor Crumbs' attention shifts to the dusty book probably dirtying his couch and his eyes widen microscopically.

"Why is it that you are in possession of an ancient spell-book?" he asks, smiling and reaching out for it. "I have not seen one of these for generations, literally." A chuckle shakes his frail frame.

I decide that "_I'm from the future and was sucked back here because I had sex with Justin, whom I am in love with"_ should probably not be shared. There must be other reasons one would be carrying around an ancient spell-book.

"Well," I begin, hoping that my tongue is sharp as ever, "I happened to run into it at one of the libraries in the mortal world and just had to get it away from there. While I was walking away from the library, I started to get curious and opened the book and I must say, I was rendered speechless. These spells are so incredibly complex and powerful."

Professor Crumbs looks horrified. "What is an ancient spell-book doing in a mortal's library? Thank you for retrieving it, Miss Russo. The Wizarding World thanks you for your bravery."

"Yeah, yeah," I reply. "I was - I wondered if there was any way to reverse these spells. What if they were activated accidentally, or - or something went wrong. Is there any way to reverse the effects of the spells?" It takes a second to realize that I'm not breathing.

"Well," Professor Crumbs responds slowly, taking another sip of his tea, "there is one way, but it isn't perfect. Many cases are never reversed and while I find it saddening to see people lose their lives in such a manner, it does protect everything the Council has striven for."

Taking another sip of tea, I try to still my trembling. "How do you reverse the spells?" I ask again.

"It would require an act of complete selflessness, a sacrifice so great that it alters the lives of those who activated the original spell drastically," Professor Crumbs says, eyes drifting off in memories. "Sometimes it works. However, other times the result of the sacrifice ends in much the same way the spell promises: broken memories, loss of identity and magic. Truly tragic, it is." He almost looks sad as he speaks, as though he knows the pain these spells cause.

"So, it could work?" I try and confirm, pleading that he is right, that perhaps Justin and I have a way to right things.

"It could," Professor Crumbs admits, setting down his tea-cup with shaking fingers. His face suddenly looks very pale. "Miss Russo, I am afraid that I must usher you out for the evening. I have a Council meeting to attend and I cannot be late again. They are threatening to take away my tennis privileges."

I smile, "Sure thing. Thank you." Swinging the satchel over my head and sliding the book back inside of it, I head for the door, probably tracking more dirt across the spotless carpet.

Professor Crumbs doesn't move from his position on the couch and, with a little frown at his puzzling behavior, I exit. One of the Helping Hands closes the door behind me.

* * *

><p>The breeze feels nice against my face as I walk across the quiet street leading towards Waverly Place. I don't bother using the crosswalk here unless traffic is crazy and threatens to run me over like road-kill, considering the crosswalk isn't for another block, up at the signal on Parker Ln. A car switches to its high beams for a moment as it draws near me while heading up the street and I flip them off, refusing to move faster. I can practically see the driver frowning at me as I step up on the curb but I don't really care.<p>

The darkness nearly swallows me whole as I make my way towards the little bake shop on the corner. I'm in the mood for something sweet, not to mention that I haven't eaten since yesterday, other than dumping straight sugar down my throat earlier. A little lump squeezes its way into my throat as I notice a couple walking past me, their hands linked and swinging back and forth. They are both smiling and she laughs at something he says.

I swallow, hard. _"Are you at all worried about losing this?" Of course I am._ Then I take a few more steps and enter Mario's Bake Shop. The scent of fresh cinnamon rolls fills my nostrils and I inhale happily, knowing that I'll have to buy half a dozen to take back to the sub-station. If Justin's still awake, I might let him have my left-overs.

"Where have you been?"

I turn to meet Mason's wide eyes and wrap my arms around him without thinking, needing the warm contact. I miss the days where I used to be able to love him for who he was, the days before he transformed into a narcissistic jerk who thrived off putting me down. I miss his hugs and his kisses, miss him so much it hurts. But I don't regret breaking up with him. Of course, there's the little problem of me dating him right now, but I'll just have to go with it.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, forcing guilt onto my face. "I just had a - erm - friend emergency."

Mason looks suspicious when he says, "Your parents had no idea where you were."

"I was in the Wizarding World," I whisper into his ear.

"Oh." His hands tighten around my waist and I look back at the empty line and the expectant cashier sadly, wishing that I could just get my food and go. "Well, do you want to make it up to me right now?" His eyes look so hopeful and I hate to crush him.

"I can't," I say, watching his face fall. "Got to pick up some stuff and bring it back to my - um - sick friend."

"What is your friend sick with?" Mason asks and I know he's trying to get me to confess.

You should know me better than this, I think wistfully.

"Dragon-pox," I say, matter of fact. "So, I um, should get my order I guess."

"Yeah," he mumbles, lips pressing against my cheek. "Whatever."

When I turn back around to apologize, he's gone.

* * *

><p>"There you are." Justin sounds worried and I don't blame him.<p>

"I know," I mutter, knowing that I look wearier than I should. "Turn around."

"Why should I - oh," he says, flushing as I begin peeling off my shirt. For a second, he looks like he wants to rip the rest of my clothes off himself but then he decides otherwise and shifts over until his face is burrowed into the pillows.

My eyes flit about his room as I strip off my sweaty clothes and deposit them in the dirty clothes bin by the edge of his closet. Grabbing one of his t-shirts that reads _Brain-o-meter = Exploded _on the front, I tug it on and hope that my brother doesn't notice how it clings to my body in the most intimate places. If Justin was hoping to get it on tonight, he'll be disappointed. I'm so tired I could probably hiberate for a good month.

"You look sexy," Justin says when I slide into his bed beside him.

"Try again," I respond, looking around his room again. I've missed being able to come in here and steal some of his precious wall decorations and mementos stored in boxes under his bed. At least Mom had given him permission to paint the room silver or I think I would have gone insane with the boring nature of it all.

His eyes study me kindly and I lose myself in their gray depths, feeling my own eyes blur with tears. _I'm scared, Justin. I don't want to lose you._

"You look beautiful," he whispers after a moment, his tone so sweet I nearly break down right there. His fingers skim down my matted hair and brush my cheek lightly.

"I meant to bring you home a cinnamon roll, but I needed the extra sugar rush," I admit, smiling as his fingers brush my collarbone.

He shrugs, eyes drooping with exhaustion and murmers, "It's the thought that counts, especially with you."

I twine our fingers together under the blankets as my lips meet his softly. Our mouths brush cautiously and I remember the sensations of making love in my bed, of looking at him and knowing that I could spend the rest of my life with this man, if society would only permit it. One tear skims down my cheek.

"I love you too," Justin breathes when I pull back.

I ruffle his hair affectionately, laughing to myself when he reaches up to flatten it back. His eyes slowly close again and as I watch him drift off to sleep I begin to cry silently. Tears drip down my cheeks and dot the sheets, proof how much I hate the position we're in. _I'll fight for us until the day I can't even remember who I am_, I think, shifting until my head is burrowing against his chest.

I just hope that it is enough.

* * *

><p>..::.:.:::être continué:::.:.::..<p>

_..:.:..::...to be continued..::..:.:::.:.._


	7. six

**p**ar **a**près **a**vs **y**eux

_- a jalex story- _

**a/n: **Ugh, so sorry. It's been like a week and a half, hasn't it? So, so, _so_ sorry. I've been getting a ton of homework and had a sudden flux of passion to write for Vampire Diaries. But I'm back, I swear. Here's the next part, which took me a bit to write because I want to make sure I have all the details down. Hopefully the story won't be too much longer, because no one likes a story which drags on pointlessly in the end, but I want to flesh it out right. Flat characters just won't do, lol. Reviews make me happy :D

* * *

><p><em>chapter six - justin<em>

* * *

><p>En chronométrer nous détestons que que nous craignons souvent.<p>

_In time we hate that which we often fear.  
><em>_-William Shakespeare_

* * *

><p>Two weeks of pretending. Two weeks of going to school and answering every question easier than the last. Two weeks of looking into our parents' eyes and smiling like nothing is wrong.<p>

Two weeks of pretending like Juliet and I are the simplest thing, like nothing can break us apart.

Two weeks of listening to Alex mumble about Mason in her sleep, worry chasing the shadows across the planes of her face.

Two weeks of wondering if we'll ever go back home

or if we're doomed to this until we lose our minds.

I feel like I already am.

* * *

><p>Old habits die hard.<p>

It takes me five minutes of staring at the clock on the dresser in my old room before I realize that yes, it is 5:20 and no, I'm not going to fall back asleep. _I thought you gave up the habit of getting up to study at 5am back in senior year_, my thoughts shriek indignantly and, rubbing a shaky hand over my muddled vision, I groan softly.

Something – rather, someone – groans in response and I turn to see the peaceful face of my little sister. Alex's body is taking up three-fourths of the bed, with her head smashed between the sides of the pillow on her end and her feet tangling annoyingly with mine. It brings back memories of playing footsie under tables with Juliet when we thought her parents weren't looking and my Adam's apple bobs as I swallow guiltily.

I know I shouldn't feel guilty about having feelings for Juliet, because as a human being I have every right to. Besides, technically we're engaged and we love each other. _You can actually be with her_, I tell myself, feeling worse and worse by the second. True, we'd have to hide the fact that I'm a full wizard and Juliet is a vampire, but we could make it work if we really wanted to. But Alex…as much as I love her, we'd have to hide from the whole world and the frightened little part of my heart shies away from the risqué nature of such a lifestyle.

I've always been the rational one, and a relationship with my little sister is not rational. _Why didn't we just walk away?_ Some rebellious part I've buried claws its way up. _Now we're stuck here, fighting for something illegal to begin with, all because Alex begged me to care one more time. _Guilt chokes me and I dismiss the thoughts, knowing that it really isn't Alex's fault. It's my fault for giving in to this.

_Giving into what? You love her, don't you? _I growl in frustration, wishing that my brain would just shut up. Of course I love Alex, more than anything, it's just sometimes, I get tired. That's all.

Alex's torso shifts again and my t-shirt she insisted on wearing rides up her flat stomach, revealing the smooth underside of her left breast; it's just enough to drive my hormones crazy and I force away the promiscuous dreams of taking her right now, listening to her cries as we both go over the edge. _Stop being a perverted creature_, I rebuke myself silently, reaching over and tugging the t-shirt - that looks way too good on Alex's slim body – down until it covers her chest. Back where we're from, Alex has developed a bit of a stomach, but I don't really mind that much. The animalistic side of my head, however, purrs appreciatively at how good my little sister looks right now, with her pale lips pursed and her face free from worry, with that thin stomach and hip bones protruding.

"Shut up," I mumble to those awful, lurking thoughts, scooting cautiously out of bed and walking over to my closet. _Ugh, I'm still in teeny-bopper stage_, I think, disgusted with my taste in clothing as I hold up a t-shirt with a high neckline and know that I'll find nothing but skinny jeans to go with it. Pulling off the shirt I wore to bed, I tug on the new shirt and slide a beige sweater on to ward away the early morning chills. Not bothering to slide on jeans that will only make me uncomfortable in a few minutes, I grab the ancient spell-book Alex had been pouring over yesterday and hug it to my chest as I scoot back into bed and turn the lamp on to the lowest setting.

Alex mumbles something under her breath, sighs and tangles herself further into the covers, but doesn't wake up. She's always been incredibly hard to wake up, I think to myself, smiling absentmindedly as I remember all of the mornings where she would drag her feet before school.

"You're so beautiful," I tell her slumbering form, sliding my fingers down her cheek before turning back to the spell-book. Alex has – surprisingly – marked all of the corresponding passages in the book with colored pieces of paper and I begin to flip through them, knowing that I've got to find something. Even if my little sister won't say it, I know that subconsciously she wants me to fix this.

And, if I'm honest, I expect myself to fix this.

* * *

><p>The bedroom is flooding with curious strands of morning light when Alex begins to stir. Muscles heaving, she turns until she's facing the ceiling and mumbles a strand of curses against the insanity of getting up early.<p>

"Good morning to you too," I tell her, flipping another page in the book and forcing my tired eyes to read the miniscule print.

"I'd like to drive a stake through whoever invented school," Alex mumbles, sliding her hand through mine and ghosting her thumb over my skin. I shiver, goose-bumps exploding down my arm.

"Barbaric," I say softly, smiling exhaustedly down at her and trying not to laugh as I see her hair sticking out in all directions. "I have to say, I like your shorter hair better."

Alex hisses at me while dragging her other hand through her obstinate hair she inherited from our mom. Sitting up, she looks down at her bare legs and frowns, murmuring, "I will never get used to seeing myself like this."

"Like what?" I ask her, rubbing her shoulder and smiling as she flinches away. "You're just as beautiful at twenty-eight as you were - are - at seventeen."

"My mind is going to be middle-aged soon," Alex groans to herself, and I wonder if she heard me to begin with. Then her dark eyes meet my face, brazen and burning with something I can't place. "Thank you for sucking up, though you're not exactly subtle at it." Her fingers stroke a pattern down my jaw towards my neck, hovering by my collarbone.

"How long have you been up with that?" she asks a second later, gesturing to the spell-book. Her eyes ask me if I've found anything and I shake my head, watching her expression fall back into gloom. The smile on her face turns brittle, the result of pretending for too long, but I respect that she's trying to be optimistic.

"Awhile," I admit.

"That nerdish head of yours just couldn't let you sleep, huh?" Alex asks, tapping my forehead gently.

"Really funny," I say, rolling my eyes. "You should get back to your room before Mom comes to –"

There is a sudden knock on the door and Alex's eyes widen.

"Justin, it's time to get up," Mom snaps, knocking once more on the door. "You have to get ready for school."

"Okay, mom," I shout back to her, keeping my voice pleasant enough.

There are shifting noises from behind the locked door. "Do you know where Alex is?" Mom wonders.

My eyes meet the round, brown irises of my sister and I gulp, hoping that for once I can lie adequately. This has never been my forte.

"Um," I begin, cheeks flushing with the shame of it all, "I thought I heard her heading downstairs early, something about exercising."

"Genius," Alex whispers sarcastically, giving me a look which means I've said something stupid. When I glare right back at her, she burrows her head into my neck and I gulp as her lips meet the side of my neck.

"Exercising?" Mom says with a little laugh. "The day Alex exercises is the day pigs fly. She's probably sneaking out to see Dean again, after I specifically told her not to. Hurry up and get ready, honey. I've got some bacon cooking on the stove." She slaps her hand against the door and I wait for the sound of her retreating footsteps before exhaling slowly.

"What is it with Mom and thinking I have a crush on Dean?" Alex wonders, crossing her arms and accentuating the curve of her chest.

"Maybe, I don't know, because you guys used to go out," I tell her, smirking when she gives me a dirty look. "It's plausible."

"Dean _moved_," Alex says, holding out the last letter. "What, does she think I'm going to hitch-hike on this random love quest or something?"

"You have been known to be unpredictable."

Alex slaps my shoulder and hisses, "Shut up, smart-ass."

I laugh for a second, enjoying the simplicity with her. But the problems quickly sink back in. "So, how are you planning on figuring this out when we're stuck in school?" I ask her, brow furrowing.

Alex smiles a little wicked kind of grin that usually signifies trouble, then slurs, "I have it all taken care of. Go downstairs and eat. Meet me outside of school in twenty minutes. Oh, and Justin?"

She looks at me and I feel my breath catch in my chest.

"What?"

Alex's grin widens as she says, "You'd better not forget to bring me food. Russo loves her bacon."

With that, she slides off the bed and saunters out, purposely swinging her hips and exposing more skin than I should like to see. _Goodness, I love you_, I think as I get out of bed to find a pair of jeans that won't strangle my waist.

* * *

><p>Fifteen minutes later, I mutter an excuse about some extra-curricular club I made up and scoot out of our house. Mom's eyes follow me a bit suspiciously as I stutter away and for one heart-stopped second I think she's caught me in the act, that she'll detain me or something, but she doesn't.<p>

"Hello, young man," some ruffian leaning against the brick wall around the corner from Waverly Place grunts as I hurry past. He grins and displays a set of rotting, yellow teeth that smell absolutely horrible. "Spare a twenty, would you?"

I take a step back and nearly run into a mother clutching a toddler in her arms. The blonde flashes me an owlish glance before continuing down the street with her babbling child. "I - um, well," I begin, feeling my face flush and hating the truthful streak I've built over the years. "I don't have my wallet on me. Sorry." Instinctively my fingers creep towards my back pocket where I slid my thin brown wallet earlier.

The man's eyes follow the movement of my hand and he grimaces as I begin to walk backwards. "Kids these days," he mutters to himself, coughing up something black and disgusting. I shiver. "No compassion whatsoever."

A quiver runs from my head to my toes and I curse the busy streets leading to school, wondering why there seem to be so many people out on this particular day. It's funny how that works. People in this city don't give a damn about you until you start acting guilty, and then they swarm like starving monsters.

"You're five minutes late," Alex remarks when I finally make my sweat-stained, shuddering way to the alley beside the school. "Should I be worried?" She holds out a hand and I pull out a paper towel wrapped around five pieces of bacon, giving it to her.

"I thought you said you had a plan," I hiss when she tears into the bacon. "_Alex_."

"Whining is a very unattractive habit, Professor Russo," Alex mumbles snarkily around a piece of bacon. Swallowing, she says, "Would you relax? You're trembling like a leaf in winter, in the middle of a snow-storm."

"I'd relax if you would hurry up and clue me in," I snap, quickly losing my patience. My little sister has an annoyingly easy time of ticking me off and right now I don't need to be dealing with it. "Alex, if we don't figure out this curse thing then we might lose our lives. Take things seriously for once!"

She looks hurt for a second, but quickly brushes nonchalance over her face. Sliding her wand out of her left boot, Alex points it at her face and says clearly, "_Edgebono Utoosis." _

"No, what are you -" I begin, but it's too late.

There is a little flash of light and suddenly there are two seventeen year old Alex Russos standing in front of me.

"Alex," I hiss, pressing a hand against my forehead as I suddenly feel light-headed. "The last time you attempted that spell you screwed everything up. Magic is very tempermental."

Her eyes darken with frustration and as she laces her arms over her chest she spits, "I wish you'd stop teaching me like one of your stupid pupils. I became the family wizard for a _reason_, Justin. I know it's hard for you to accept that maybe, just maybe, I'm good at magic, but you need to get over yourself." Her chest heaves up and down and color spills onto her cheeks as she glares at me. I realize that I've hit a nerve and guilt surfaces.

"Look, I'm sorry," I begin, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She steps away from me and I swallow back the hurt, knowing that I've inflicted some damage. "I think you're a wonderful wizard, Alex."

"Then why can't you ever trust me with anything?" Alex asks, her voice trembling. She glances at her duplicate. "Whether you like it or not, I'm trying to get us out of this mess. So just - just go along with it for once."

"Okay," I sigh, reaching out again. This time she permits the touch, her face softening a little as she notices my remorse. "I'm sorry. I didn't get enough sleep last night, but that's no reason to lash out at you." Fishing my wand out, I cast the spell on myself and shiver without meaning to as I watch my duplicate form in front of me, down to the triple knot on the black shoelaces. "Now what do I do?"

"For the bright child in the family, you're acting really dull," Alex comments, exhaling heavily. "Teach your duplicate the basics, conjure a map of the school or whatever. He'll probably pick it up fast enough." She turns to her own duplicate to do the same, mumbling intently to the thing.

Ten minutes later, Alex sends the duplicates scampering off towards the school, a satisfied expression on her face.

"Now, how do you plan on getting us out of here?" I ask her with a hint of reproach in my tone.

Crossing her arms once more, Alex flashes me a petulant look and mutters, "Did you happen to bring the flying carpet in your back pocket?"

I just look at her for a second in disbelief and wonder how she could leave us hanging like this, then give in with a grumble and tug the magically shrunken carpet from my front left pocket, spelling it back to its full size. I would ask myself how Alex could have known I'd carry the flying carpet in my pocket, but know that she knows me all too well by this point to bother. Someone passing by on the sidewalk gives us a weird look but passes by. It's only a carpet, hardly the oddest thing one encounters in this city.

"Now what do -" I start in on my little sister again, knowing that I'm being cruel about this but unable to stop.

"Invisibility dust," Alex says, pulling a small vial from her handbag and waving it in front of my face triumphantly. "Stop your moping and get over here."

There's nothing left to do but comply. Sitting down gently on the carpet, I wait for Alex to plop behind me and sprinkle the sparkly dust over us and the carpet before allowing the red-swirled rug to carry us in the air. Alex wraps her arms tightly around my waist, burying her head into the crook of my neck. It isn't that hard to direct the carpet further up into the skies - I won't take any chances of us being discovered by mortals - and a few minutes later we're soaring over the city, the breeze sending Alex's hair whipping and the skin of my face tightening uncomfortably.

"Where to?" I ask my sister hesitantly, hoping that she's planned this through.

"Metro," is all Alex says before her expression glazes over with something I don't want to think about. She's still hurt and it's my fault - again. Everything is always my fault. "Why are you so angry with me, Justin?" she whispers after a tense silence.

"I'm not angry with you," I tell her, half-lying. "I'm angry with myself."

"You've never been a good liar," Alex reminds me and I grit my teeth as thoughts of Juliet and Mason swarm through my brain.

"I'm just," I start, pausing to sift through my thoughts. "I don't like being back here and having to deal with Juliet, having to listen to Mom bring up Dean and Mason over and over again, and I guess -" I can't finish, don't know how.

"You're not losing your memory, are you?" Alex asks, sounding frightened. She's let her guard down and is staring at me with undisguised love and fear she hates to let show. Her fingers cup my cheek delicately and when she leans forward to kiss me I let her, needing her wonderful taste against my mouth.

"No," I mumble, eyelashes fluttering against her soft skin. Our brown eyes meet and I lose myself in depths of gorgeous brown. "I just don't belong here, Alex. This isn't who I am anymore. And I'm so tired of pretending."

She doesn't say anything else, but I can read the question in her eyes. _Why are you mad at me then?_

_I'm not the reason you're pretending, am I, Justin?_

I can't answer, because I don't know what will spill out of my mouth.

* * *

><p>I land the flying carpet a block away from the Metro station, folding it with careful precision before stowing it back in my front left pocket. Alex taps her foot impatiently the entire time, but every time I look up at her she glances away as if afraid to make me angry. <em>This isn't who I am<em>, I want to say, but the words get caught in my throat. Instead I reach out and slide my fingers through hers, squeeze her hand reassuringly.

"I'm sorry," Alex says out of the blue and I start.

"You never apologize," I respond without thinking.

She gives me an incredulous look and mumbles, "Obviously I'm capable of it."

"What are you sorry about?" I stutter after an awkward pause. Our joined hands swing back and forth, bumping her hip every few steps.

"I'm sorry for getting us in this mess," Alex whispers so quietly I barely hear it. She clears her throat and those beautiful brown eyes glisten with determination. She looks at me, really looks at me, for the first time in a half hour. "I'm sorry for sleeping with you, Justin."

Something shatters within me at her words. "Do you regret it?" I ask, hoping more than anything that she won't say what I think she will. Because if we're stuck in this mess and she regrets that anything happened to begin with...I can't begin to imagine the hurt that admission will cause.

Alex looks startled as she says, "No, of course not. I would never regret it. That was one of the best nights of my life."

I smile without thinking about it, "For me too."

She looks pensive now and the sunlight frames her face perfectly, setting the crevices in her skin on fire - golden, roaring, alive.

"I'm just sorry that all of this happened," Alex says, gesturing around us. "If I could change it, I would."

Before I can think about it, I pull her into a hug and release a shaky breath into her dark hair. "I'm sorry too," I whisper, tears building up in my eyes and blurring my vision. Refusing to think about the fact that any day now our memories could be stolen from us, I focus on Alex's soft, jasmine scent and how perfectly she fits against me. _How can something as amazing as this be wrong?_

"Sorry to break things up, but I need to get through," an aggravated voice says and a girl with honey blonde hair pushes her way past us, shouldering a duffel bag that looks ready to burst.

Straightening, I prepare to give her a cold lecture about politeness, then freeze as I recognize just who she is. "Jocelyn?"

Alex swats my side and I realize that I've opened my mouth and said something idiotic again. _What else is new? _But I'm too preoccupied in looking at the younger version of Max's girlfriend to pay much attention to anything. Her hair is shorter, eyes a little duller, but other than that Jocelyn doesn't look all that much different. There is a forlorn expression on her face that makes something within me ache, however, the expression of someone who is horribly lost in the smothering grasp of life.

"I'm sorry," Jocelyn says, her hand wrapping more tightly around the strap of her duffel. "Do I know you?"

"Vaguely," Alex cuts in before I can screw things up further. She's usually pretty good at cleaning up my verbal messes, just as I fix her magical errors. "We met you once when we were talking to your brother."

"Freddie? You know Freddie?" The girl's face lightens incrimentally at the mention of her brother and she smiles, probably seeing how rude she's being. "I'm sorry that I ran into you. I'm just in a hurry to catch a ride downtown."

"Why, are you getting arrested?" I joke.

Neither Alex nor Jocelyn smiles. _Every time_, I think grimly.

Jocelyn smiles faintly. "Actually, I'm meeting with Freddie so that Professor Crumbs can transfer the full wizard powers to me."

"Wizards?" Alex asks, trying to appear shocked, but she quickly gives up pretending. "You ought to be more careful who you tell stuff like that too."

"Maybe you shouldn't have your wand in such plain sight then," Jocelyn counters, glancing at Alex's feet again and smiling crookedly. "I'm sorry. I really have to go. It was nice meeting you guys." With a last backwards glance, she heads off towards the Metro station, leaving Alex and I to give each other horrified looks.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I ask my sister softly.

Alex nods and swallows, hard. "We have to stop Jocelyn from getting her full powers. One of the Russo children deserves happiness." The smile she wears this time is so sad I wonder why she even bothers.

Kissing the top of her head and tangling our fingers together once more, I lead Alex down the path towards the Metro station.

* * *

><p>..::.:.:::être continué:::.:.::..<p>

_..:.:..::...to be continued..::..:.:::.:.._


	8. sept

**p**ar **a**près **a**vs **y**eux

_- a jalex story- _

**a/n: **I am determined to finish this story. I know that I haven't been updating very frequently and I apologize. Life just consumes me sometimes and I realize afterwards that I'm behind on this. So sorry. Oh, if you get notices in your email saying that I've updated the story many times, it is simply me correcting some issues with the earlier chapters. But it shouldn't stop you from reading :) Reviews are always welcome!

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><p><em>chapter seven – alex <em>

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><p>Je ne sais pas qui est pire, l'être le l'un avec le coeur cassé,<p>

Ou l'être la personne qui casse les coeurs.

_I don't know which is worse, being the one with the broken heart, _

_or being the person that breaks the hearts. _

* * *

><p>"Can you stop holding my hand so tightly?" Justin complains.<p>

I untangle my fingers from his and give him a glare. "Excuse me for being a little worked up," I growl, charging on ahead. "If we don't get to the Metro station in time then we'll never be able to set this right."

His eyes meet mine, serious and deep in thought. He's stewing over some aspect of our predicament again, for the millionth time. Every time I turn around he's probing some part of the spell or giving me a cautious look every time we slide into bed together and huddle close. Obviously, he's trying to be his typical Justin-y self, but here, that's practically impossible.

"Is this the right thing?" Justin asks me.

I ignore the question, wrapping my hand around his wrist and pulling him along faster. He's dragging his feet and we don't have time for this. If he were bringing up anything else, even our illicit relationship, then I might cooperate. But the fact that he's probably thinking about giving Max the short end of the stick again is just not okay.

"Max always comes in last," I shoot back, my eyes burning with something I can't place. "Tell me something, and be honest. Will you be able to look into his eyes when we get back to our time and tell him that we forfeited his happiness for ours?"

His eyes are scorching holes in the back of my head, but I'm too focused on rounding the next bend and taking the stairs to the platform where a battered Metro bus sits waiting. Smoke pours from the pipe in the back of the bus, congesting the air and making my brother cough.

"We don't even know if we'll get back to our time," Justin says at last.

"Say we do," I respond, rolling my eyes. Sometimes my brother just gets on my nerves, what with his technical side and ideas about morality. It wouldn't surprise me to find the _1000 Morality Commandments for Dummies_ stored somewhere in the back of his cranium, if such a thing exists.

Justin says nothing and I quickly forget our conversation as I notice the last stragglers boarding the bus. "We've got to hurry," I snap at my brother, sprinkling the magic dust over us and waiting for it to take effect before creeping closer.

"Do you have any money?" Justin asks.

I reach behind me and smack his cheek just hard enough to leave a bruise.

"Why would we be invisible if I planned on paying?" I reply in a dark tone, taking hold of his hand once more and knotting our fingers together. I could lie and say that I was only holding his hand to make sure the dork didn't get lost, but I'd be lying.

"Would it kill you to follow the rules once in awhile?" Justin mumbles, probably hoping I won't hear it. He's so stupid it's adorable.

I lead him up to the shivering doors and wait for a lady carrying two toddlers to board before sneaking on with Justin in tow. Instantly my eyes shoot about, looking for an alcove or corner where the two of us can stand, preferably a place where no one will lean against us and freak out. I find it in the front, a crevice in front of the first row no one ever sits in – considering the bench has a layer of dust probably an inch thick by now – and behind the driver's chair. Sinking down, I shake out my legs and sigh gratefully.

"Do you see Jocelyn?" I whisper into Justin's ear. He cranes his neck around and looks behind us. A second later he nods.

"They're four rows back, to the right. You can probably see them if you twist around like this," he whispers back, squeezing my hand.

I shrug, looking towards the back for the heck of it. Jocelyn is sitting there with her worn satchel in her lap, a grim smile about her face. Seconds later, the familiar face of one of my students plops down beside her and Jocelyn relaxes visibly. "That still freaks me out," I mutter to Justin, "seeing one of my delinquents right there."

"Technically you're still a delinquent right now," Justin says, looking at me with soft eyes. My fingertips brush his cheek of their own accord.

"You never answered my question," I whisper, shifting until I can rest my head on his shoulder.

Justin says nothing, the silence saying more than any explanation he could have thought up.

I shift again, unable to get comfortable. Then I frown as I feel something crinkle in my clenched hand. Unfurling my fingers, I swallow hard and give the newest post-it-note on my palm a frustrated glance.

_Do what you must to resolve your relationship with Mason, or Justin will start losing his memory._

If the Council members knew this situation, would they try and counter-act the spell? Because if not, they're seriously stupid threatening the memories of the future President of Wiz-tech. Part of wants to bring this up to Professor Crumbs and the rest of the Council, but I know, deep inside, that it will change nothing. If anything, the Council members would strive to keep Justin and I secluded from the world and each other until we agreed to let go of these treacherous feelings.

I never thought I would actually be afraid of Professor Crumbs, yet here I am, shivering like a frost-bitten leaf. _How pathetic_, I think to myself, smiling as Justin rests his head on mine. He makes a little sleepy noise and though we've only been seated for a few minutes, it seems that my brother is already prepared to crash.

My thumb rubs absentmindedly against the blue surface of the post-it note and I flip it over without any real reason why. It's probably a good thing I did. Roughly, my heart pounds in my chest and I refuse to look at my brother's reflection in the window.

_Don't tell Justin. _

_Just break his heart. _

* * *

><p>The ride to the station we're looking for takes about an hour and a half, what with all the stops at subsequent stops and passenger issues. The whole time I am clenching the seat to my left, tearing away at the flattened chartreuse padding with no remorse. If God so happened to love this one bench, might He smite me now. Justin gives me curious little looks blended with a smile meant to ease my anxiety every two minutes. Normally I would love to see my brother care, but right now I'm too nervous and his smile reminds me of nothing but what I'm going to have to do to him later.<p>

Finally, the bus pulls into the Forest Glen station and I flash a tense look out the window, sighing when I see the crowds of people. Why – of all days – does it have to be busy now?

"Is this us?" Justin asks, his eyes following Jocelyn and Freddie as they get up from their seats and shuffle towards the opening doors. I squeeze his hand in response, rising to my feet and dusting off my jeans. Resisting the urge to shove aside an elderly couple trying to board the bus before they should, Justin and I slip through the doors of the bus and begin to weave through the crowds of frenzied people.

"Stop feeling guilty," I mumble to Justin, watching as the boarding passengers swipe their cards to deposit the payment before finding their seats.

"But we cheated them out of money," Justin whimpers.

"Yeah, and we could potentially lose our memories any day," I hiss harshly, wincing as his hand quivers in mine. "I'm sorry. I'm being harsh. It's just – try and rearrange your priorities for a few days."

He says nothing and I feel guiltier than usual. But I am quick to shove the emotions into the farthest reaches of my heart, focusing instead on the impressive architecture displayed in the skyscrapers right in front of our eyes. They stretch along for miles, common here in the heart of the city. It's amazing just how majestic the structures are, especially when combined with waving streamers, balloons swelling in the cloud dotted-skies and the sunlight playing a pattern against the thousands of glass windows. Somewhere in the distance, _Here Comes The Sun _wafts along, Paul McCartney's voice reverberating beautifully.

"Aren't we supposed to be following them?" Justin asks, pointing towards Jocelyn and Freddie, who are disappearing down the side alley to the left, towards the net-work of side streets leading to Demeurer.

"Right," I say, willing my legs to stop wiggling in response to the song. "Sorry." Hurrying along, I tug Justin behind me as though he's the one lagging. Honestly, I'm tired of chasing after people. I'd like to just collapse on the couch in our parent's apartment with a bowl of popcorn.

Suddenly the pair stops. Freddie reaches into his pocket and fishes out his phone.

"I'll meet up with you," he tells his sister.

Jocelyn shrugs, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as though she's not concerned about today. But her arm is shaking. She's terribly nervous. "I'll wait over there," she says, pointing to a hot dog stand by the entrance to a slim alley thirty feet away.

Freddie presses the phone against his ear, "Hello?" His eyes dart about cautiously.

"We should go," Justin says, pulling on my hand. "Let's wait by Jocelyn so we don't lose her."

"No," I mumble, glancing at Freddie. "I want to hear this."

Justin looks at me for a long moment, reading something in my eyes that must reassure him I genuinely want to listen in, and nods. "No pranks," he mutters as an afterthought.

I roll my eyes.

"Hey, hey," Freddie says into the phone, his face and voice softening. "You don't have to worry. It's all planned out, okay? I'll be home later." There is a pause. "Shh, you won't have to worry about that after Joce and I are done. Look, I've got to go." He listens to the person on the other end for a minute, smiling. "I love you too, Lisa."

He hangs up, a shadow of guilt hanging over his face. Then he makes his way over to his sister.

"Probably his mom or something," Justin says, placing a hand on the small of my back and guiding me towards the hot dog stand. Freddie has reached his sister and the two of them are talking. She stretches up and hugs him, her expression serious, sad.

"Probably," I say, somehow doubting that it was Freddie and Jocelyn's mom. Why would he call his mother Lisa, unless she'd only married into the family?

Jocelyn wraps her arms around her brother and they head into the alleyway beside the hot dog stand, the shadows swallowing them whole. I follow them, still mulling the phone call over in my head.

You would think that you'd have to a complicated magic spell or something to get into Demeurer, but that isn't the case. The passage to get to the entrance is longer than anything. Heart thundering, I hurry after Jocelyn and Freddie and double-check to make sure Justin and I are still invisible before entering the thin alley. _The Council must have been watching Harry Potter when they ordered these alleys to be constructed_, I think with a little smirk. The first alley swallows one up, and we make a right, taking three stairs down that lead to an abrupt left. Dark brick walls surround us, some sprayed with various gang symbols and others falling out, leaving dusty gaps in the walls. Every second the space between the buildings disappears and by the time the four of us reach a T-shaped spot in the network of alleyways, only a few twinkling rays of light are still visible. Jocelyn and Freddie make a right and I follow them, still holding Justin's hand. He's sweating like an elephant and I wrinkle my nose, fingers playing with his.

Like I said, it isn't all that hard to get into Demeurer. I'd say that we're going to be exposed one of these days, but the Council isn't _that_ stupid. These alleys are only visible to magical beings. The first alley exists, but to mortals, it ends in a threatening brick wall splattered with someone's trash.

Squeezing my way around the last corner, I watch Demeurer unfold around us with glittering sunlight and perfectly unblemished streets. There isn't even a door. You just round the corner and walk right into the magical realm. They used to use an elevator system, but apparently it was getting too backed up and wizards that fund the programs around here were starting to complain. Now it's neat, perfect, calculating_. Just like the Council_, I think grimly.

Suddenly, Jocelyn and Freddie make a right and start heading in the opposite direction as the old power transfer room thing. My brow furrows.

"What are they doing?" I half-ask my brother, more directing the question to myself. "Where are they going? The building is over there." Pointing to the left, I give Justin a puzzled look.

"There must be something special about this transfer," Justin mumbles to himself.

Suddenly, it hits me. Justin's eyes flash a second later in frustration and he turns to me, growing worried at the expression on my face.

I remember now, the conversation we had with Max the night everything went wrong. The day that Freddie spoke to Justin, he said that he was failing and Justin put him in my delinquent class. He'd failed out of delinquent class several months after starting – even I had a limit as to how much I could tolerate, surprisingly – and I'd thought nothing of it until Max had mentioned Freddie being Jocelyn's brother.

"When you looked up Freddie's grades," I whisper, "what did you find?"

"Straight A's," Justin admits, trying to grab my hand. I pull it away, trembling.

_So that's what he's doing_, I think, pride rushing through me. All those months in my class when Freddie had finished his tests and spells faster than anyone else, only to fail perfectly; it had all been a lie. He'd been planning this for a long time, planning to fail.

"He's purposely giving up his powers for his sister," I say, the words echoing.

"But, that doesn't make sense," Justin starts.

_But it does. _

"Of course it does," I reply, wondering why my voice is so soft. "Max said that magic is the only thing Jocelyn can really be sure of. It's all she has other than Freddie and he can't always be around her." Hesitating for a second, I think of Freddie's phone call. "Lisa isn't Freddie's mom. He wouldn't call her that. I think, I think," I pause to swallow, "I think she's a mortal. He's in love with a mortal."

"But that doesn't –" Justin begins again, words coming into a halt as he really thinks about it. He knows that I'm right and part of him doesn't want to admit it. Instead of saying that my conclusion is right, he asks, "Where did they go?"

I whirl about and look to the right, heart shriveling in my chest. "We've got to stop it," I cry, feeling something off about my words. "If she's a full wizard, Max can't be with her. We have to stop the transfer." Without another word, I take off, ripping my hand from Justin's. He shouts after me, but I ignore him, ignore the fact that for some reason I want to cry. I run, ignoring the little voice inside of me screaming _'this isn't right.'_

Just as I'm about to catch up to Jocelyn and Freddie, they disappear behind an ornate gate leading to the homes of Council members and the beautifully designed doors lock. I tug on them, uselessly, growling and spitting and pleading to no one in particular. _Please, please –_

"Alex!" Justin yells, screeching to a halt beside me. I throw his invading hands off and yank once more on the gate, screaming when it won't unlock.

"We've got to stop the transfer," I mumble, knowing that I don't really mean the words.

"Alex," Justin says again. I hate how calm his voice is.

"We've got to make Max happy," I whisper. "We've got to stop the transfer."

"We can't," Justin says.

I step back, releasing the gate. Several tears roll down my cheeks and I wipe them away, disgusted with myself. Justin's arms weave around me and I collapse onto his chest, keeping my posture rigid and my face blank. He sees the fight in my eyes, the terror, anyways. He always sees it.

"What's wrong?" my brother asks.

"We can't do this," I admit, not that it makes much of a difference. "Freddie is doing this for a reason and if we screw that up –" my breath hitches and I struggle to rein in my emotions, "If we screw that up, I can't even begin to think about the consequences." My brain registers foreign images of Jocelyn waving a powerless wand, of Freddie saying goodbye to a beautiful girl with honey blonde hair and teary eyes. "We can't affect the past like this," I say, tone numb, dead.

I feel anything but dead inside. Inside I am a raging tornado, all splintering emotions and the truth I don't want to face. When Justin looks at me, surprised, I laugh flatly.

"Is that the conclusion you were hoping I'd come to?" I ask him, appreciating how he doesn't let go of me. "Were you hoping I'd finally see how wrong I was about trying to stop the transfer?"

"Well, yes," Justin responds, shrugging as an embarrassed blush colors his cheeks. "We'll figure out something, Alex," he adds, smiling hopefully at me. "There's got to be something in a spell-book, something to reverse this. We'll find it."

I nod, letting him believe that he's comforting me. The blue post it note burns in my pocket and I swallow guiltily. For the first time, I realize that we might not make it out of this.

* * *

><p>"There's nothing here," I hiss several hours later, throwing my hands up and nearly knocking the thousand year old, musty spell-book off my lap. For people who claim to thrive in the land of order and perfection, they sure aren't good at restoring books.<p>

I cough as a wave of dust rises in the air, smacking me in the face.

"You've only looked at two spell-books," Justin mumbles from his position on the floor. Sitting criss-cross and surrounded by a dozen different spell-books, he paints the perfect picture of a mortal student during finals.

"Yeah," I answer, closing the spell-book and setting it on the huge ten foot table to my left. "Well, they were big ones. I don't see how you're getting anything out of those pages, what with them flipping so fast."

"Actually, I spelled the books to search for any possible solutions to our problem," Justin says smugly, reaching up and messing his hair further. "I just have to sit back and wait."

"Well, what if these books don't have the solution? Maybe they have a spell that leads you to a spell-book that does have the solution," I argue, knowing that I'm being a brat. But I figure I have somewhat of a right. Between running off of four hours of sleep and visiting a library for the first time since fifth grade, I'm cranky. Not to mention, even after six hours of diligent searching, we have found nothing. It's like the curse doesn't exist.

Justin pauses to think and sighs when he realizes that I have a bit of a point. Rising to my feet, I begin to pace around the deserted section of the library, weaving about tables and chairs. Above us, a chandelier swings gently, thousands of diamonds shivering and shining, illuminating the brightness. The ceiling looks like it was painted by Van Gogh, with cryptic drawings and designs that don't even exist in the mortal world. This room alone is stunning, comprising only one of five thousand rooms in the library. From our position here, I can look out of the French style windows and see throughout the entire east side of the magical realm. The people on the ground look like ants and my head spins just thinking about how high we're up.

"I don't know what else to try, Alex," Justin admits, letting weariness leak into his tone. I look over my shoulder, catching his eyes. He feels guilty that he can't do more, guilty that he's letting me down and potentially dooming us. I sigh.

"It's not your fault," I tell him, approaching the circle of spell-books. Touching his shoulder, I wait for him to look at me before smiling. "We'll figure something out, okay?"

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Justin smiles, looking at me in such a loving way that I shiver.

Fishing out my phone, I head towards the opposite end of the room. "Where are you going?" Justin calls after me and I wiggle my hips a little, hearing him inhale sharply.

"Ten minute break," I respond, flashing him a smoldering look. The way he's looking at me is more than carnal, something that makes my skin erupt with goose-bumps. I remember the way we moved together on my bed, the way his lips bruised mine, and try not to let my brother see just how much he affects me.

I haven't allowed myself to think much about that night, I realize as I slide between shelves and rest against a row of Demeurer history books. With everything we've been going through, I didn't find it prudent to entertain sexual fantasies about my brother. But those stormy eyes of his bring back the memories and every muscle in my body jumps at the thought of doing something so intimate again with the man I love.

_Not yet_, I chastise myself, fishing through my phone for the new message.

_Hey there =) I'm sorry for how I've been acting. It was wrong. Care to meet me for some tea and crumpets? – Your Werewolf _

My first thought is to ignore his text, but it would be rude. I'm supposed to love Mason when I'm this age. I remember feeling like he was it and that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. The blue post it note crinkles in my pocket, reminding me what I'm supposed to do, even if it hurts Justin.

Right now, we've got no answers. So we have no choice but to follow the blue post it notes and hope that they'll save us from this monstrous end.

_When and where? Please tell me you're joking about the crumpets. – Your Wizard :) _

_Now to deal with Justin_, I think, sighing to myself.

"Hey," I call out, slipping back towards our study spot. Justin is still sitting there in the same position, flipping through a book with rapt attention. The moment he hears my book he puts a flowery book-mark in between the pages and closes the book.

"Everything alright?" he asks.

I nod. "Actually," I say, "I have to go. You're welcome to stay here if you want." Turning to dash off, I hope that Justin won't stop me.

"What do you mean?" Justin asks, giving me a confused look.

My shrug is a little too unsteady to portray nonchalance. "Mason asked me on a date," I tell my brother, watching his face fall. My heart falls with it. "Maybe he and I will be able to work things out. I can't imagine losing him."

"But I thought –" Justin starts, hurt flashing across his face. "Alex, who's side are you on? I'm trying to save us and you're over there flirting with Mason like you're back in your senior year of high school." I haven't heard him this upset since he lost Juliet and I swallow back the tears. _I'm sorry, Justin._

"If you haven't noticed, I am a senior in high school," I retort bitterly, trying to put as much contempt into my voice as possible. I've got to protect Justin. I have to. "While you're over here searching through spell-books uselessly, I'm trying to make sure our cover isn't blown. Get over yourself."

I turn around and begin to stalk off, head held high.

"Alex," Justin says. That's all that comes out of his shaking lips: my name. The damage it does, the ache it sends rushing from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, is so much worse. I've hurt him again, only this time I don't know if I can fix it.

"Get over yourself," I repeat, voice hollow.

Then I walk away, more miserable than I've ever been.

* * *

><p>..::.:.:::être continué:::.:.::..<p>

_..:.:..::...to be continued..::..:.:::.:.._


	9. huit

**p**ar **a**près **a**vs **y**eux

_- a jalex story- _

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><p><strong>an**: I am officially the worst updater ever, and I apologize. It's been four months now since my last update, but to be completely truthful, I haven't felt any passion for writing lately. Series of events in my life recently have left me feeling like taking a break from writing. Honestly, I wrote this two-three months ago, and just never got to publishing it. The wonderful CallYouByYourName helped me revise this chapter and made it ten thousand times better. Not even sure she remembers doing it :p You should check out her story Alternate Endings, which focuses on the ends of episodes and adds a little something extra. She accomplishes this in a breathtaking way, so I highly recommend you find her stuff and read it.

Now that I have blabbed on, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Not sure I will update again soon, but we'll see (:

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><p><em>chapter eight – justin <em>

Je pourrais entendre les racines de solitude qui rampe par moi quand le monde a été fait taire à quatre heures dans la matinée.

_I could hear the roots of loneliness creeping through me when the world was hushed at four o'clock in the morning. - anonymous_

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><p>I stay awake two hours and twelve minutes past my self-imposed bedtime, tracing the mess of covers on Alex's side of her bed with loathing eyes. Loathing stirring in my chest because she's off gallivanting with the werewolf, loathing because she has the sweetest sugary tone whenever she wants something but with me her voice drips with a sour aftertaste. Loathing with myself because no matter what Alex says or does to me, I still cling on to her tightly. Perhaps some part of doesn't want to know how far I'll fall the moment I decide to let go.<p>

The spell-book on my lap tumbles to the side and I let it, too tired to move. Gathering fistfuls of the purple covers, I laugh morosely to myself. I'd come racing back to Alex's bedroom earlier after putting every library book back in its proper place. It had been a habitual mistake, considering that I'd been sleeping in Alex's bed for the past few weeks just so I could be close to her. Well, I won't give it up now. It's the least I deserve for dealing with her ever-changing moods and her out of the blue desire to go have tea and crumpets with Mason.

Moments later, I hear the front door squeak open and then gently shut, followed by footsteps on the stairs. Alex passes by the bedroom door a moment later, her hair a beautifully disheveled mess and her lips smudged with pink lipstick. She's wearing one of Mason's sweaters and there is a dazed look in her dark eyes. My fingers curl into fists.

"You should have been back a long time ago," I growl, struggling into a seated position. My tone is hard, but on the inside I'm begging her to say something, or do something…do _anything_ to prove that the girl I fell in love with is still in there. I act irritated because I don't want to show how worried I've been about her. An hour ago, my mind had begun concocting scenarios of rape and murder.

Alex jumps. "You're still awake," she says, as though surprised that I would dare to stay awake past my self-imposed bedtime. How else would she have me behave?

"Yeah," I say, coughing past the buildup of phlegm in my throat. "I wanted to make sure that you were safe."

Alex's lips part ever so slightly as she stares at me. I wonder what she's thinking. Either way, it's amazing how sexy she looks, even in such an unkempt state. "You don't have to check up on me," she says at last, but she doesn't sound mad. "I'm not five, Justin."

"I know," I tell Alex, wanting so badly to reach out and pull her into a hug. But she's so far away from me, so unmovable. And plus, I remind myself, I'm supposed to be angry with her. "But you're still my sister."

Hurt flashes in Alex's eyes, but she quickly conceals it. "Your sister," she echoes slowly, lingering over each syllable. When she finally looks up at me again, there is a forced smile hoisting her lips up. "Mason took me back."

"Did you ever doubt that he would?" I ask coldly. She knows that I don't like talking about the narcissistic werewolf she's seemingly deluded herself into loving.

She can't love him, not when there is this _thing_ between us. She can't.

"No," Alex says. "I love him. He loves me." She shrugs. I see her eyes flick towards the other end of her room as my whole body jerks at the word _love_. Then she adds, "You should have been asleep a long time ago." The lingering gaze she gives me tears my heart into little pieces.

"Obviously I'm not asleep," I tell her, biting my tongue to keep from leashing the words I really want to say.

Alex rolls her eyes, as though silently telling me I'm being dense. But her whole face softens when she sees how tired I look. "Did you get my texts?"

"No," I say shortly. Actually, I'd gotten both of them, re-reading the "I'm sorry" and "I don't think this kind of love ever dies" until my brain had screamed in protest. But I wasn't about to tell her that.

Alex's face closes off. "Oh," she answers, hesitating by the doorframe. "Well…look, Justin. You can't blame me for thinking that this isn't going to work." She gestures between us and I feel like she's stabbed me in the chest. "We've tried every avenue. The only thing left to do is fight it out in the Wizard Competition until one of us wins. Beats losing our memories," she says.

After all this time, I thought she would have changed. But she still backs out when the going gets tough. I am not worth it to her, apparently. The thought hurts.

"Call me crazy," I respond dryly, gesturing to the spell-book on the floor. "I thought you meant it when you said that you loved me, that you'd fight for us. But I guess I was wrong."

"I haven't given up-"

"You went back to him," I hiss, my face frozen with loathing for a moment. I don't know where this encompassing anger is coming from, but I can't seem to stop it. "I've been searching every spell-book known to man in the hopes of finding something to save us, but I guess that just isn't as important to you as getting Mason back. My bad, Alex."

Alex's lower lip trembles and my traitorous heart wants to take every word back just so that she'll be happy again. But I won't. I can't. _I'm sorry_, I think, watching the emotions work their way across her face, each one hitting me worse than the previous one. After a drawn out silence, Alex inhales shakily and flashes me a look brimming with confusion, anger and teardrops. Then she walks away from me, down the hall. I hear a door slam. She's stolen my bedroom, darn her. And I was so hoping she'd have to sleep on the couch, which she hates. I should have put a padlock on my door, or even spelled it shut. By morning Alex will probably have burned all of my Captain Jim-Bob Sherwood collectables and sullied my covers with the jar of jam she always keeps in her purse. But oddly enough, I'm too upset to care. I just don't care. She's already done far worse to me.

_I'm done_, I think with a bitter scowl, ignoring the tears in my eyes. In this moment, I hate her so, so much. More than that, I hate how I can't seem to stop the guilt pounding into me, butchering me for letting my tongue loose. I hate how much I love her. I hate how we share the last name and yet how that doesn't even matter, really. We don't need to find a way around it. We just crash right through it.

But now, all of those talks about ignoring the Council, fooling our parents and finding our own happiness, all of those little promises we made, feel null and void. It scares me how easily Alex seems to give up, especially when I'm trying to do the exact opposite.

This is how the Council wanted us to be in the first place: normal, manageable. Well, they've gotten their wish.

I blink back the sudden moisture in my eyes (stupid allergies) and reach for my flip phone. Scrolling down the list of text messages- most of which are from Alex, though a few are written in Zeke's favorite Alien dialect – I look for the two messages I'd claimed not to read earlier.

_You should already know who this is, because honestly, who else texts you? I'm sorry I made plans with Mason, Justin. No matter how much I want to reconnect with him, it wasn't fair to you. Call me back when you can (because you take way too long to text. Like wayyyyy too long.) _

It was so typically Alex, the first message. I'd been kind of surprised to see an apology, as those were as rare as Dad's workout sessions, but she'd quickly followed it up with insults. I hadn't been expecting the second message, which had been broken up into several texts due to the length.

_I think some stories don't have happy endings. And obviously, if the Council has sucked us here and made us young again and threatened to take away our memories, we can't expect a happy ending. I care about you. I'm never going to forget the night that we had, because I don't think this kind of love ever dies. But there's nowhere for us to go. We're trapped, Justin. I know you probably think I'm being really immature about this, and maybe I am. But this is the decision I'm making. I'm going to work on my spells and win the Wizard Competition. It's the only way I can see out of this twisted mess. You should do the same, but you know, you've never listened to me. So do what you want, I guess._

Alex would send her goodbye message to me in a text. It's just so _her_.

"Stupid, freakin' allergies," I grumble under my breath, wiping at my wet cheeks and glancing over at my wand. It rests against the lamp on her nightstand, the light casting a warm glow over its wooden length. Reaching over, I pick it up and run my fingers over the smooth span, Alex's words echoing in my mind.

This is it then. This is what has to happen. If Alex is going to strive to win the Wizard Competition, I can only do the same. I can't just let her saunter across the finish line, not when I deserve it so much more. No. Now it's on.

_Bring on the Wizard Competition_, I think gravely_._

* * *

><p>The alarm goes off way too soon and it takes me several consecutive minutes of blinking to dismiss the drowsiness. My head pounds a jagged rhythm. Morning light peers through the curtains. The alarm beeps two seconds later (I always wake up before it goes off, always.) Sliding out from between the covers and hissing at the cold, I head out into the empty hallway.<p>

"Why were you in Alex's bedroom?"

I turn and meet my mom's suspicious look, gulping. "She stole my room," I say, hoping that my voice isn't wobbly. Technically it's the truth.

Mom shakes her head and sighs. "I would have thought you two would have grown past that," she responds. "Aren't you getting a little old for the practical jokes?"

My laugh comes out a little high pitched. "Try telling Alex that," I answer.

Shaking her head again, Mom heads downstairs and I hurry over to my room, praying that Alex still isn't in there. I need to get dressed and I can't do that if she's lying in my bed glowering at me.

But it seems that for once in her life, Alex got up early. My door hits the wall behind it softly and I creep inside, half expecting her to jump out at me or squirt pepper spray into my eyes while waving a tomahawk. But nothing happens. The only sound is my labored breathing. _Stop being so paranoid_, I tell myself with a frown, heading for the closet. One favorite t-shirt and pair of jeans later, I head downstairs to get breakfast.

"You look terrible," Max tells me when I enter the kitchen. I don't bother responding, and he doesn't seem to need an answer. Hopping a little on his chair, Max cranes his head around and asks, "Can I have my breakfast now? I can't construct my Pile of Trash on an empty stomach."

"Say please or the only thing you're getting is coal," Mom answers sharply. Max gives her an abashed look and mutters "please" under his breath.

"You're making another Pile of Trash?" I ask him, eyebrows furrowing.

Max nods excitedly. "The first one sold for so much I decided to make a whole bunch of them," he tells me, grinning. "Next thing you know, I'll be a billionaire."

"Good luck with that," I say, turning to give Mom a hug. She smiles up at me and wraps her arms about my waist, hugging me tightly. Pressing my face into her neck, I inhale the comforting scent of her cinnamon body lotion that always reminds me of my childhood. She's worn it since before I was born.

As I'm pulling away, I glance surreptitiously about to see if Alex has come down yet, but she hasn't. Something like disappointment settles in my stomach, and I try to tell myself that it's just because I'm hungry.

If that's the problem (which it _is_,) I can solve it. I head over to the fridge and pull out a protein shake.

"You're going to need more than that," Dad says as he lumbers down the stairs.

I frown as I take in his too-tight shorts and orange bandanna. "Did you accidentally sign up for another marathon?" I ask him.

"No," he says, then frowns as if reconsidering. "Well…"

"As a matter of fact, he did," Theresa says, walking over to stand beside her husband. She hands him a white pamphlet with the words Unicorn Derby written on it in squiggly letters, flashing him a weary look. "But that's another story for another time."

"I didn't even know there was such a thing as a Unicorn Derby," Jerry muses, studying the paper intently.

"So, why are you dressed like that?" I ask after pulling the paper from his hands and throwing it in the trash.

"We're training for the Wizard Competition."

Alex stomps down the stairs wearing spanky pants and a peach colored tank-top that fit her slim body way too well. I swallow uncomfortably as my eyes travel up to meet hers. Something warm blossoms within me and for a moment Alex looks just as I feel. However, she quickly brushes a scowl onto her lips and the warmth in my heart crumbles into cold remains.

"Oh," I say, wondering how I didn't know about all this.

"Cardio and all that, I guess," Alex adds, giving me a one-over. "What, you didn't know?" Her eyes glimmer darkly and I wince at the bite in her tone. "I asked Dad first thing this morning. That's what you get for sleeping in."

"Alex," Mom reprimands half-heartedly, just as confused about Alex's new determination to get fit for the competition.

"But I thought it was just about spell-work," I mutter, stumbling over the words in my confusion.

The look that Alex gives me is rather queer this time. I don't know what to make of it, only that she looks rather sad, wistful almost.

"You should know better than anyone that it's not all about the spell-work," she says.

I have to keep clutch the counter's edge to keep myself upright as the meaning behind her words hits me and I get it. The sadness in her eyes seems to echo my own, and all at once I'm reliving the memory that slips into my head sometimes at night.

_The heat from the crackling fire it took us so long to build. Her fingertips gently brushing mine as we sit cross-legged and talk without antagonism. I remember wondering if we'd be able to save our family. I remember Alex, struggling not to cry as she folded her body into mine, still sniffling as she found her way into slumber._

_You can't hate me_, I think as I take a deep breath, still looking into Alex's brown eyes. _Not after everything we've been through. That kind of love never dies. _

"Yeah," I say. "Right. But I haven't been – I never implemented a workout into my daily schedule."

"Liar," Alex scoffs, giving me a one over. "If you haven't been working out, then how did you get those nerdish muscles?"

I accept the back-handed complement with a tiny smile, and she glowers at me all the more. It only means that some part of her still cares.

"No time like the present," I respond at last. "But maybe we should start with spell-work first?"

"I thought it would be best to do spell-work after we're done with cardio," Jerry responds. "You could take a shower and then snuggle up with Advanced Spell Casting, Volume XVI."

"But my hypothalamus will be in no condition to keep up with my advanced level of retention skills," I argue.

Alex growls under her breath. "Look," she snaps, "are you coming or not?"

"Well, you don't seem to want me along in the first place," I retort, letting some of the venom from last night seep back into my voice. Alex backs up ever so slightly, glaring. I can feel our parents' eyes boring holes into our backs but I ignore them, focusing only on Alex. "Just go, Alex. Go work out and get fit. Pretend that you're not making the worst decision of your life. Be the good person, whatever that means. Maybe then you'll feel like you have a chance." I head for the stairs, then turn back to look at her. Alex's eyes are wide, framed by those long, dark lashes and if I look closely enough I can make out the beginning of tears. The color bleeds from her cheeks and lips. She looks devastated, and a cruel part of me rejoices that she finally gets how I've been feeling these past couple days. The rest of me just feels sick.

"Justin," she whispers.

My mouth is moving without my permission. "You can delude yourself all you want," I hiss, "but from where I'm standing, you're nothing but a selfish brat." My heart thunders in my ears and the room spins dangerously. A tear slides a slow trail down Alex's cheek. "We both know who's going to win in the end," I add viciously, heading for the safety of my bedroom and the pillows tinged with my sister's scent.

* * *

><p>After 23 minutes of dedicatedly pondering all of life's questions, I roll over onto my back and sigh. The house is strangely silent and I wonder if they've actually left without me. <em>Doesn't matter even if they did<em>, I think. _I've got everything I need right here_. I'm perfectly happy with the stack of spell-books on my nightstand. One can never study too much. As I do so, my mind dredges up the memory of how Alex had looked earlier, how her shorts had clung to her curvaceous hips and how I'd seen a line of cleavage disappearing underneath her shirt.

"She did it on purpose," I tell myself, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. "Forget her. Forget them." Brushing away the memory of Alex's tear-stained face after I'd finished snapping at her, I reach for one of the spell-books. I flip past the easy sections Alex is only just managing and reach the advanced spell-work. The wording seems strangely familiar. _Oh yeah, I memorized this last summer. _I gently place the book to the side and reach for the next, but run into the same issue. I've memorized every word in every one of these spell-books and know the spells backwards and forwards.

Sitting up, I stretch my arms above my head and flex my fingers. Then I set the spell-books in a neat pile on top of Alex's covers. "You're just that good," I tell myself with a smug smirk, getting up and leaving my sister's room. The halls are oddly silent; not even a peep from Max's room. _Weird. _

Once in the lair, I head for the spell-books lying in a heap on the table and shake my head. _Can't even put them on the shelf, Alex? _However, after flipping through each and every book, I realize that I've memorized all of these too. I must have read them sometime after the Wizard Competition, I determine, trying to remember. But I can't seem to recall anything past my first term as Headmaster of Wiz-tech, no matter how much I try.

"What the heck," I mutter, fighting to remember what had happened after Freddie had visited my office and I'd placed him in Alex's delinquent class. It's all a fog. "How did we trigger the curse?" I ask myself, my brows furrowing. "How-"

I can't remember.

_I can't remember. _

"You have to win the Wizard Competition," I tell myself, lips trembling as I exit the lair and head for the double doors of the Sub-Shop.

The Wizard Council wasn't kidding when they said that we'd lose our memories. _It's really happening_, I think, trying to stay calm. But terror is quickly spreading through me, numbing.

Mom and Max are sitting on the front steps outside the Sub-Shop, dressed in their work clothes. Max has several trash bags situated to his right and seems to be utterly focused on the mutilated Coke can in his hands. Just then, Alex jogs by, her shorts riding up just enough to give me a good view. I shiver and she frowns, her eyes studying my face. I know there is fear in my eyes, easy for her to see. Her lips open, probably to ask me what's wrong, when suddenly she pauses. _She's still mad_, I think with a sinking heart as her face closes off and she keeps running.

Dad walks by just a minute later, wheezing uncontrollably, his face as red as a tomato. "What-are you-doing –he-here," he manages to get out between gasps.

"I, um," I stutter, glancing in the direction Alex has gone.

Dad notices and, giving me a rueful smile, he beckons me into the street. "Co-come join us," he pants.

I shrug, "If you want me that bad." Flashing a matching orange t-shirt and shorts from last year's Alien-Brother convention, I follow Dad down the street, waiting for him to catch his breath. "Where are we running?"

Dad gives me an odd look, then chuckles in a weird wheezy way. "_You_," he clarifies, "are going to be following Alex down Waverly Place. Make a right onto Almond and follow that. Alex will show you the rest."

"You do realize that Almond leads into an unstable neighborhood, right?" I squeak. "I mean, not like it's a big deal or anything-"

"Justin, don't be a baby," Dad says, sounding so much like Alex that I have to swallow away the sudden lump in my throat.

"I'm waiting for you to tell me to apologize to Alex," I answer slowly.

Dad shrugs, taking another shuddering breath and wiping at his sweaty face. "I trust that you've figured that out for yourself," he rasps, giving me a last smile before turning to head off.

"What about Max?" I ask suddenly, gesturing towards the boy covered in trash.

Dad gives Max a quick glance. "I'm pretty sure he's more productive where he is."

Max looks up and sees us. He waves, smiling.

"Is he even training?" I ask, remembering how Max had reacted when Alex had won the last Wizard Competition. Max had been happy enough to receive the Sub-Shop but later, he'd admitted to me that it would have been nice to keep his powers. I look back at my dad and ask, "Are you going to help him train?"

"Relax, Justin." Dad places a sturdy hand on my shoulder. "I've got Max. You worry about yourself." He mumbles something like "_when have you ever done that_" under his breath but I don't quite catch it. "You should probably catch up to Alex."

"She's not going to wait for me," I say, shaking my head and pulling my right leg back, stretching. After doing the same thing to the other leg, I start walking in the direction Alex had disappeared, slowly transitioning into a jog.

It takes twenty minutes of running (and an energizing spell) to reach my sister. Alex is just turning onto Almond Street, her dark hair bouncing in a loose ponytail. Her breathing sounds perfectly normal and as I'm cursing my weak lungs, I wonder when she started to work out. Last time I checked, Alex's idea of fitness was watching Biggest Loser and stuffing her face with chocolate ice-cream.

As I approach her, Alex's muscles stiffen a little, but she doesn't turn around. She's probably heard my tennis shoes grinding against the ground. The roads are terrible around here, little more than potholes surrounded by patches of dirt.

"Did you want something?" she asks calmly.

"It's always wise to have a running buddy," I answer, glancing slowly around me and wincing as the buildings seem to close in over our heads, the brick walls and mailboxes covered in trails of graffiti.

Alex still doesn't turn around. She's probably rolling her eyes. "You're so lame," she says.

"I know."

Finally, she spares me a cautious glance and asks, "What do you want?"

"I already told you," I say.

Alex barks a laugh. "That's just an excuse to get close to me, Justin."

"Is it working?" I ask my sister, unwilling to admit that I really don't want to be alone in a place like this. Everything about our surroundings, from the thin veil of sunlight overhead to the cobwebs trailing across porch railings and the driveways covered in cracks, looks like one of those scenes in a scary movie. But, of course, I have no intention of mentioning my understandable misgivings to Alex. She'd only call me a coward, which I'm _not_.

Her shoulders tense even more and when Alex looks at me again I'm worried that she's carrying some kind of weapon. _Please let it be a bomb_, I think. _At least then I'll perish quickly. _

"No," Alex says. She slows down just enough for me to catch up and I watch her eyes linger on my armpits. Her nose crinkles. "You're really not into this whole working out thing, are you?"

"Just out of practice," I mutter, tightening my arms against my sides.

"Sure," Alex answers.

I cough into my hand and eye the graffiti-stained buildings to either side of me with great trepidation. It's not that I'm scared. I just find it highly probable that a gang is waiting around the corner to massacre me, is all. I'm _not_ scared.

"When did you start working out?" I ask, unable to stop myself from staring at the way the sweat gleams on her olive skin.

"After the first Wizard Competition," Alex says immediately.

"Do you mean the one that you won?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

She shakes her head vigorously.

_I remember the tears staining her cheeks as she begs me not to go. "Please don't leave me here," she whispers, her brown eyes sparkling. My lips waver as I look at this beautiful girl whose name I don't even know and I feel a little ache stir in my chest. The moment I tell her that I have no intention of leaving, she flings her arms around me and I bury my cheek into her hair. I feel at home. _

"Why?" I ask. We're still jogging, faster now.

"I never wanted to feel so helpless again," Alex tells me. Our eyes meet. Something burns between us and before I'm even aware of it, I'm slamming her against the wall to our right and smothering her lips with mine. Her fingers dig into my back and she whimpers.

When I pull back, her eyes are glazed. I kiss her neck and whisper, feeling oddly seductive, "And yet we're stuck here."

"Exactly," Alex hisses back, beginning to struggle in my arms. I release her immediately, feeling like an idiot for man-handling her. When she tears up, I feel even worse.

"Alex, I-" I'm not sure what I want to say, but I have to say something. If I really wanted to, I could probably cut the tension between us with a knife.

"Don't," Alex says harshly, taking a step away from me. "Just don't, Justin. This doesn't change anything." She begins to walk away, back towards Waverly Place. The alley feels a lot more intimidating without her by my side.

"I'm forgetting."

I blurt it out without meaning to. Alex freezes.

"What?" she asks.

"I'm forgetting," I say again, not trusting my feet enough to move. "I can't remember anything past Freddie's visit to my office. I've tried everything, I swear." My legs quiver when I walk, but I manage a few steps. Tangling my hand in my hair, I croak, "I thought that if we stayed away from each other then we'd be able to keep our memories."

Alex looks stricken and I wonder if she's afraid for me or her own memory.

"Well," she says, taking a deep breath, "obviously, we're not doing a good job of that." She bites her lip. "Look, we'll figure it out, okay? We always do." I watch her eyes roam about and wonder what's making her so antsy. Finally she says, "I've been jogging every day at ten. If you're a minute late, I'll go without you."

"Why are you doing this?" I ask her, something like hope fluttering in my chest.

Alex shrugs. "Call it my good deed for the year," she says with a quirk of her mouth. "Besides, it's always good to have a running buddy." Pulling her wand out from her shoe where she'd magically shrunken it, Alex disappears; she's probably already lounging about on her favorite spot on the couch.

I stare at the place where she was for a minute, trying and failing to keep from smiling. _This kind of love never dies_, I think, my smile falling away as I feel something crinkle in the palm of my hand. The blue post it note gleams mockingly up at me.

_We warned you._

* * *

><p>..::.:.:::être continué:::.:.::..<p>

_..:.:..::...to be continued..::..:.:::.:.._


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